


The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book II

by ncfwhitetigress



Series: The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe [2]
Category: Pocahontas (1995)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Disney, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-09-27 14:49:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 118,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17163992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfwhitetigress/pseuds/ncfwhitetigress
Summary: Book II picks up where Book I left off. Pocahontas and John Rolfe have made it home to Virginia, but new trouble is brewing between the settlers and Powhatans. Will our young couple be able to restore peace and prosperity? Home is anything but boring with new adventures, meetings, partings, comings, goings, threats, dangers, and discoveries on the horizon. Characters and universe owned by Disney.





	1. A Sad State of Affairs

_“You!”_ Chief Powhatan seethed, releasing his breathless daughter. He pointed accusingly at the only white man in the room. “What took you so long to bring her back here?!”

John Rolfe yelped and shrunk behind Uttamatomakkin. “Well I-I…”

“Father!” Pocahontas protested. “It was not his fault.”

“What happened to your hair, Pocahontas?” Mattachanna blurted, running her fingers through her younger sister’s short locks. “Your long beautiful hair. It’s all gone.”

Pocahontas simpered at her. “That’s a long story. Where is Nakoma? I want to see her.”

“You will have to wait until the storm lets up, Daughter. Nakoma and her husband are in their own wigwam,” Chief Powhatan informed Pocahontas, turning her back to him. He took her shoulders and shook her gently but firmly. “Where were you? What happened? When your ship was a week late, the settlers ensured me everything was likely just fine. But then John Smith came and we started to think that…” he drilled her.

Pocahontas gasped. “John Smith came?!”

“Yes!” Powhatan charged. “His own ship left London a week after yours and he was stunned to find you weren’t here. Uttamatomakkin was with him. I collapsed in grief knowing something ghastly must’ve happened! What happened?! You must tell me!”

Pocahontas raised a brow. “What was he doing here? What did he want? I thought he was planning to go on a new voyage to some far-off place that he hadn’t seen before.”

Mattachanna frowned. “John Smith never did get to tell us why he had come originally because we were all so distracted by the discovery of your disappearance, Pocahontas. After he came to see Father and found you were missing, he swore to us he would search for you to the ends of the earth. We haven’t seen him since. He’s off gallivanting around the world somewhere looking for you!” the older woman said with great fervor.

Pocahontas gaped in dismay. There had to be some way to inform Smith that she was okay. She glanced over her shoulder to John Rolfe. “Not to worry, Pocahontas,” he chimed, noticing her troubled look. “I’ll send Smith a letter forthwith. He’s bound to stop by London at some point for supplies. When he does, he’ll find my letter there waiting for him. Besides, I’ve got to write to the king and queen to let them know what happened. And my own family too. If my parents ever find out that our ship was lost at sea, I am certain that they would both have heart attacks,” he surmised with a worried chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “With any luck, they’ll receive my letter first.”

Pocahontas appeared relieved. “Thank you, John! Please do that right away.”

“I’ll leave for Jamestown as soon as the storm lets up,” John Rolfe dutifully replied.

Pocahontas’s eyes widened at the declaration. “John, no! You should stay until morning. You must be just as exhausted as I am from traveling all day,” she expressed worriedly.

“I doubt the storm will let up before dawn,” Powhatan added. “Follow me to my quarters, all of you. I want to hear every detail of what happened.” He turned and started back in the direction of his personal dwelling, ushering Pocahontas to come along with him.

The younger Powhatan princess walked alongside her father and the others followed. They were greeted in each room by Pocahontas’s brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, and in-laws. All were overjoyed to discover that she was alive and well. The crowd followed them back to the chief’s chamber, which served as a communal meeting place for all members of the extended family. Once they arrived in Powhatan’s neck of the longhouse, Pocahontas flew into the arms of her other maternal aunt and stepmother Sooleawa. The woman dropped the basket she was holding to embrace Pocahontas. “Aunt, I’ve missed you so much!” Pocahontas exclaimed, squeezing the older woman tightly.

“Pocahontas, dear child!” Sooleawa blurted in their native tongue. “You’re alive! I knew you were alive. Your poor father had his doubts, but I knew. Oh, I knew!”

All of Powhatan and Sooleawa’s young children were gathered around the central hearth. They jumped to their feet and rushed in to embrace their big sister—with the exception of Chepi, who was only a year old. The baby crawled over on hands and knees, babbling.

John Rolfe was taken aback at just how large Pocahontas’s family really was. The Powhatan princess had told him about the size of it, but the true magnitude never hit home until he was able to witness it for himself firsthand. He waded through the crowd to a corner of the room so that he would be out of the way as Pocahontas enjoyed her reunion with all her closest family members. Chief Powhatan walked up to his throne and cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention after a few minutes. The clan quieted down instantly, deeply respectful of their patriarch. “Everyone, please be seated. Adults on the benches, children on the floor. You all know the routine. Pocahontas, come forward,” he announced in Powhatan, holding out a hand to her. She approached him.

Pocahontas knew it would be wise to get the unpleasant business out of the way first. Her eyes perused the crowd. The only fair face present, John Rolfe was easy to spot. She pointed to him and used a finger to beckon him over. Every eye turned to him as he walked up to Pocahontas, keeping some distance between them. “Father, cheskchamay,” Pocahontas began in Powhatan, “I know you all wish to hear about what happened to me during my time in London and afterward, but I think it is slightly more urgent that John Rolfe and I find out what happened between our people and the settlers earlier. We have been very worried because we heard about the rising conflict shortly after we had arrived in Mattica.” She repeated herself in English for the diplomat’s sake.

Chief Powhatan appeared slightly surprised, but he nodded and conceded to the request. John Rolfe leaned forward. “Most importantly of all, sir, was anyone hurt?” he inquired.

“Yes, was anyone hurt?” Pocahontas asked. In response to the question, Powhatan’s face fell and Pocahontas swallowed a lump in her throat. “People were hurt. Who, Father?”

“Your brother Keme,” Sooleawa replied, placing a hand on the somber chief’s arm. “He’s not dead but badly hurt. When the white men came, he tried to stand up to them. They made an example of him by shooting him in the leg. That was when the women handed over three hundred bushels of corn. They did not want to see anyone else get hurt. And now we are afraid the settlers have been emboldened and will come back for more later.”

Pocahontas could not believe her ears. Keme was her dearest brother. Close to her in age, they had grown up playing together. As her older brother, he was almost like her guiding spirit before she had met Meeko and Flit. “Where is he? I must go see him!”

Powhatan ran a hand over his head, deeply stressed. “He’s in the medicine hut. You cannot go to him now. Wait until after the storm. Kekata fears that his fate will be the same as Namontack’s. We don’t know what to do for him and he is in terrible pain.”

John Rolfe raised a brow, perturbed. “Chief Powhatan, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but who is Namontack and what happened to him? If Pocahontas’s brother was only shot in the leg, his condition should be treatable. Unless it shattered the bone, now that is more complicated. You have gotten the bullet out by now at least, haven’t you?”

“Bullet?” Powhatan repeated, not recognizing the term. “What is that?”

Surprised by his ignorance, John Rolfe laughed nervously at having to explain. “You know, it’s the musket ball. The little thing that comes out of the gun when it’s fired that causes the injury. It looks like a small metal ball made out of lead. Haven’t the settlers shown you?” the British gentleman inquired, scratching the back of his head.

Chief Powhatan shook his head. “The settlers scammed us for maize once last winter soon after Pocahontas left for England. Because they refused to plant, as usual, they sought to trade with us for food. Well, we had a big harvest that year so we agreed. They nearly ran out of their usual items to trade with, so they traded us some of their fire sticks instead. After taking the corn in exchange, they refused to show us how to operate the fire sticks and said that was not part of the deal,” the chief disclosed in a bitter tone.

John Rolfe knitted his brows. “That was quite a crooked thing for them to do. I apologize on their behalf. Do you still possess these guns that you traded for?” he quickly inquired.

Powhatan nodded. “They are buried in the back of one of our storehouses somewhere.”

“Well, in light of the attack, I think it would be wise for me to show you how to use them as soon as possible so you at least have a means of defending yourselves. That’s only assuming, on some off-chance, that the settlers attack again before I’ve had the chance to tame them. On that note, sir, we do have some very welcome news from our London trip. Pocahontas’s meeting with King James was a great success,” John Rolfe spoke, digging into his snow pants. He fished out the king’s order and held it up for everyone to lay eyes upon. “The laws laid out in this document should prevent anything like the earlier attack from ever happening again. Pocahontas was very persistent in protecting the interests of the Powhatan Nation when the document was being negotiated,” he divulged.

Chief Powhatan took hold of the tube and peered at it, his expression lightening. Then he glanced at his daughter with a wide smile. “Your mother would be proud, Pocahontas.”

Pocahontas flushed slightly. “I did my best.”

John Rolfe held out his hand for the king’s order. “I’ll need that to present to the settlers, sir. If you want to know its contents, it would be best to ask Pocahontas about it.”

Powhatan returned the document to John Rolfe, but he gave the Englishman a serious look. “You said that you would show us how to use the fire sticks. I am afraid that you and I will not cohabit this land peacefully if you do not keep your promise this time. Many of the men in Jamestown have lied to us and broken promises despite how much we have helped them over the years. Our confidence in your people is very low.”

John Rolfe’s eyes popped open. “Sir, I give you my word,” he returned. “Gather the guns when the storm lets up and I’ll show you how to load and fire them at first light.”

“John showed me how to do it,” Pocahontas added, giving her father a confident grin.

Powhatan shot Pocahontas a look of surprise. John Rolfe was delighted. “See? Even if I break my promise, Pocahontas could show your warriors how to do it.” He cleared his throat. “Now, if we could backtrack a moment, I’d like to know who Namontack is and what became of him. As it relates to the welfare of Keme, it seems an urgent topic.”

“Namontack is… was a warrior of our tribe,” Chief Powhatan explained woefully. “When the palefaces first came to this land, I sent some warriors to observe them from a distance. My only intention was to discover if they posed a threat to our people. We did not intend to attack. Our brave Namontack, being among the unit I sent, was spotted by the governor called Ratcliffe. A skirmish ensued during which Namontack was shot in the thigh with a fire stick. Our medicine man was at a loss for how to treat such a strange injury. After Pocahontas stopped the war and the first peace treaty with the settlers was signed, she and the elders approached the whites and inquired about the right treatment for such a wound. The settlers claimed there was nothing that could be done, that Namontack’s fate was in ‘God’s’ hands. When we got news of John Smith’s supposed death over a year later, we finally started to believe what they had told us.”

John Rolfe raised a brow. “Ah, I see. Well either that was ignorance or a lie. I can’t imagine the first settlers to come were well-educated folk so I’m going to be generous and guess it was the former. What happened to Namontack after that? Did he die?”

Powhatan shook his head. “He lives, but I fear he is not long for this earth. Namontack currently suffers a pitiful state of health. Even after the flesh wound healed over, the warrior was not himself. He gradually became sicker and sicker. The best medicine men in the Powhatan Nation tried more cures than you can count. None had any lasting effect. These days, Namontack is severely emaciated and suffering from horrible stomach pains. His muscles and joints ache, he cannot eat normally, he can’t even think normally. He gets headaches, can’t remember things. Recently he’s begun having dreadful attacks in which his body quakes and he foams at the mouth as if possessed by a demon.”

John Rolfe, rather than being taken aback, had a thoughtful look on his face. He scratched his bristled chin, considering the evidence. “Well, sir, I’m no physician. But, from what I have read and learned, that all sounds like a bad case of long-term plumbism to me. The lead bullet in his leg has to be poisoning his blood from the inside. Now, whether he’s too far gone at this point remains to be seen. I’m sure, once the musket ball is removed, that he should most certainly improve at least a little. Purifying treatments would benefit him greatly. But you have got to get that bullet out first,” the Englishman detailed.

Gasps and whispers were heard around the room while those who knew English translated John Rolfe’s words for those who did not. Chief Powhatan was astonished. “And what of Pocahontas’s brother? If this ‘bullet’ is removed, he will be alright?”

“Yes. Plumbism from lead bullets happens on a chronic basis. He would need a long time period of exposure to begin to feel any symptoms. But did the gunshot injure any of the bones in the man’s leg? If so, he might not be so able-bodied after his recovery.”

“I don’t think so,” Powhatan indicated. “Kekata thought it was only the flesh and muscle. But how do we get the bullet out? Kekata didn’t even realize there was something there.”

John Rolfe ran a hand through his auburn hair. “Well, I believe you will need a scalpel, a pair of pincers, some alcohol to cleanse the wound, and needle and thread to sew it up.”

“What are scalpel and pincers? We have no firewater either,” Powhatan said.

“A scalpel is a razor-sharp steel knife, pincers are used to pluck the bullet out of the wound, and ‘firewater’—if that is what you like to call it—is plentiful in Jamestown. Unfortunately, we have quite a lot of drunks in England and here by extension. The scalpel and pincers, on the other hand, I’ll have to ask the Jamestown doctor about.”

Pocahontas started wringing her hands. “John, I’ve met the Jamestown doctor. He does not like our people. I doubt he would be willing to help by lending us anything.”

“Then I’ll trick him into lending the items to me. Or, if I must, I’ll steal them and return them later. Thereafter I can order those items from London if your medicine man wishes to add them to his arsenal in the hopefully unlikely event of future injuries.”

Chief Powhatan appeared surprised but skeptical.“You would do that?”

“Sure, why not?”

The chief slowly rubbed his chin and nodded. “Then I expect you to keep your promise in that regard as well,” Chief Powhatan ordained. John Rolfe bobbed his head in agreement. “Now about the corn that was taken today. We need at least half of it back to make it through the winter. As you have been well informed, the harvest was bad this year. This is why we always plant a large amount of corn, to prevent famine. If it were not for the settlers, there would not have been an issue in spite of the drought. I tried to advise them to plant in the spring. I offered to help them, offered them seeds to plant. They dismissed me at every turn and planted inedible crops instead. Everything I predicted has come true, yet I don’t know what else I could have possibly done,” Powhatan stated.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Rolfe replied. “Taking care of the settlers should not have been your burden period. Do you have the name of the irresponsible governor who caused this?”

“Thomas West,” Pocahontas offered. “He’s been less pleasant to our people than earlier governors. West came to Jamestown a year before you showed up, John. Relations between my people and Jamestown have been going downhill ever since he took charge. Whatever wrongdoing he is responsible for is done undercover though. He appears to be very good at hiding his tracks. At least, that is what I believe based on what I’ve seen.”

John Rolfe nodded. “Right. I’ll have to check him out forthwith then,” he said, counting off on his fingers as he went over his to-do list in his head. “So is that all the unpleasant business or is there anything else we need to discuss?” Rolfe then inquired.

Powhatan scratched his jaw. “I can think of nothing more, except I would like to hear about where Pocahontas has been all this time and why her ship never came to port.”

Pocahontas yawned. “That’s a long story, Father. I’m very tired and I’m sure John Rolfe is too. Can we not wait until tomorrow so I can recount the story to the entire village?”

The chief folded his arms across his broad chest. “At least give us a summary. We are all dying to know in here,” he remarked, gesturing to the room full of nodding relatives.

Pocahontas and John Rolfe exchanged glances. Meeko climbed up into Pocahontas’s arms and cooed. She sighed. “Very well,” she conceded, speaking in Powhatan so all of her kindred would understand. John Rolfe, having seen everything firsthand, required no explanation. “In short, what happened is this. Our ship was attacked by a band of bad men on the saltwater. John and I were the only two survivors. They murdered everyone else on the ship. We were unable to escape their clutches until we reached a very strange land to the far south of here called Florida. That is where we jumped overboard and swam to land. Getting back to Tsenacomoco was very hard. We traveled hundreds of treacherous miles on foot. That is why it took us such a long time.”

A wave of whispers and gasps erupted and Chief Powhatan, equally shocked himself, had to gesture with a hand to quiet everyone. “That is most startling, Pocahontas,” he said in Powhatan. “I think everyone and I can agree to thank the spirits for your safe return.”

“Yes, Father. Without Mother’s guiding spirit, we never would’ve made it back. She was with me from the beginning. I sensed her in the wind much during the journey.”

Powhatan flashed Pocahontas a prideful grin. “Naturally, we are all dying to know more.” He turned to address the room. “I will call a village meeting tomorrow evening if weather permits. I think now would be a good time to bring this meeting to a close. Everyone is tired and in need of rest. Eluwilussit, my son, where are you?” he announced. The aforementioned warrior raised his hand and Powhatan pointed to him. “If I am not mistaken, you and your wife have an unoccupied bed in your chamber.” He placed a hand on John Rolfe’s shoulder. “If you could accommodate this white man for the night, I’d much appreciate it.” When Eluwilussit nodded, Powhatan turned his attention to Rolfe and switched back to English. “My son will show you where to rest. Do not leave in the morning before I’ve spoken with you. I’ll have the muskets ready at dawn.”

“Yes, sir,” Rolfe said. He turned and followed Eluwilussit from the room as the crowd dispersed. Everyone ate fish and succotash stew for supper and went to bed.

…

**DECEMBER 21, 1613**

Pocahontas and Rolfe were awoken at dawn. The snow had stopped and the warriors had risen early to shovel the village. By the time Pocahontas and Rolfe had eaten and been shown to the training grounds, every brave in the village was lined up to learn how to use the firearms. The muskets, match-lock of course, were laid out on mats over the icy snow. Rolfe yawned and rubbed his sleep-flushed face, walking up to examine them.

He knelt down and picked one up as Pocahontas and Powhatan stood by to observe. The guns were in good condition. He used his free hand to peruse the firearm paraphernalia, finding both matchcord and gunpowder cartridges. The only things missing were musket balls. The Englishman glanced up at the chief. “Sir, is this all that they traded you?”

Powhatan raised a brow. “Yes, of course. This is all they gave us.”

John Rolfe put the gun down and stood up, sighing deeply. “We’ve got a problem. I’m afraid the scam extended further than simply withholding the knowledge of proper gun operation. A crucial ingredient was also excluded—the musket balls. But worry not. As far as I am concerned, the musket balls are a part of the deal that went unpaid. I will obtain them for you. But that means I can’t teach your men to shoot right now.” He paused. “Well, then again, I can walk them through the loading procedure. But if they do fire the guns, they won’t be able to aim at anything like a target. They’ll need musket balls for proper practice. And they certainly won’t be able to defend the village if the guns aren’t properly loaded,” Rolfe explained, looking downbeat. Everything he had discovered since arriving back in Pocahontas’s homeland only made him feel more and more ashamed of his own countrymen and their inexcusable behavior toward the locals.

An expression of grave disappointment befell Powhatan’s face. He turned to Pocahontas. “Daughter, you said you learned to fire one of these things. Is what he says true? Do you truly need a musket ball to operate these guns?” he inquired for confirmation.

Pocahontas nodded. “Are you sure there aren’t any there, John?” she asked, walking up beside him. She knelt down and perused all the little pouches and whatnot herself.

“Not that I’ve found,” John Rolfe returned.

Pocahontas pursed her lips. “I don’t see any either. I know what they look like, Father.”

“Before I set off to Jamestown to do all the things I need to do, I would like to get a look at your son—the one you said was injured by gunshot—if I may,” John Rolfe requested.

“Keme?” Powhatan blurted. John Rolfe nodded. The chief dismissed his warriors and beckoned Pocahontas and Rolfe to follow him. “This way. Keme is in the yehakin of Kekata, our medicine man.” Powhatan led them through the village until they came upon a solitary wigwam. “Kekata! I have visitors for Keme,” Chief Powhatan announced.

A withered old man with long locks of light gray hair rolled up the bearskin door and beckoned them inside, stopping when he spotted the chief’s daughter. “Pocahontas!” he cried, having to do a double-take. It was like he was staring into the eyes of a ghost.

“She returned to us last night, Kekata,” Powhatan explained. “She will tell the story at the next village meeting. But Pocahontas wants to see her brother first. This white man also believes he might be able to help with the injury,” he added as they stepped inside.

The young warrior was laid out on a bed of furs, groaning. The tension in his face alone was testament to his horrific pain. His black hair was moist from perspiration. “Keme!” Pocahontas cried, running to him. She took one of his hands as his eyelids fluttered open.

His pupils dilated at the sight of her. _“Kekata, I’m hallucinating,”_ he rasped.

Chief Powhatan walked up beside Pocahontas, placing a hand on Keme’s bicep. “My son, you are not seeing visions. Your sister really is here. She returned last night. Also, I’ve brought a man who believes he can help you. Do not be alarmed, but he’s white.”

Keme looked scared, but he was in no position to resist. Powhatan ushered John Rolfe over to the bedside where he found the man’s wounded leg wrapped up in a doeskin bandage. Rolfe turned to Kekata and cleared his throat. “Sir, might I ask you to remove the bandage for a moment? I need to get a look at the wound,” Rolfe calmly requested, stepping aside. He made eye contact with Keme. “Don’t worry. I shan’t touch you.”

Kekata bobbed his head once in affirmation and approached the bedside, taking John Rolfe’s place. The old man carefully unwrapped the doeskin, revealing dry bloody grasses. “I need to change this anyway,” Kekata murmured, taking hold of the ends of the grasses. He gently pulled them away, making Keme almost cry out in pain. The young warrior gritted his teeth to remain quiet, trying to conceal his agony as much as possible in front of the others. His breathing grew ragged, his disoriented eyes wandering as he fought to remain conscious. Great Spirit forbid he pass out in front of a settler.

John Rolfe’s jaw fell open. Pocahontas placed a hand over her heart as tears pricked at her eyes. “Eugh, that looks awful,” Rolfe muttered to himself, tempted to shield his eyes. The wound was staggering, a great gaping bloody hole in the side of Keme’s right thigh deep enough to reveal the muscle underneath. The Englishman was forced to swallow some bile. He whipped out his handkerchief and used it to cover his mouth, afraid of spewing up his breakfast all over the poor man’s injury. It was revolting, but he had to get a good look at it. “Can someone open the door? I need some sunlight to properly examine it,” he added. Kekata rolled up the door and fastened it in place, allowing both sunlight and cold to flood into the room. Keme squeezed his eyes shut at the light, but the cold felt nice on his swollen legion. Rolfe knelt down, squinting his eyes at the injury. Then he stood up. “It appears to be a depression. Hence, there has to be a musket ball in there if it didn’t come out the other side. I will need to obtain the proper tools first for us to pluck it out. You may re-bandage him now.” Rolfe stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket.

“So you’re certain that this can be fixed?” Powhatan inquired, desperate for reassurance.

John Rolfe nodded. “Certainly. I mean… he’ll always have a bad scar, but he should survive and recover his health in time. Now, what of Namontack? Where is he?”

 _“Namontack?”_ Keme muttered in confusion as Kekata began to bandage him up with fresh dry grass. Again, the warrior resisted the urge to hiss in pain from the contact.

Pocahontas hushed her brother. “Save your strength, Keme.”

“Namontack was moved to a different village to stay with the medicine woman, Takhi. She is good with providing long-term care for the sick and injured,” Powhatan explained. “If we remove the musket ball from my son’s leg, I will bring you to see him.”

“Hm,” John Rolfe thoughtfully said. “Is this other village very far away?”

Powhatan shook his head. “Half a day’s journey at most.”

“Right then,” John Rolfe concluded. “I’m off to Jamestown. Let’s see if we can’t nip this conflict in the bud before things get any worse. Pocahontas, where did the warriors whisk Snow Angel off to last night?” he inquired, turning to address the Powhatan princess.

“This way,” Pocahontas replied, taking Rolfe by the hand. “I had a small stable built for Opileskiwan. I told the men from Mattica to take Snow Angel there too,” she revealed as she led him right out of Kekata’s hut. Chief Powhatan followed behind them.

John Rolfe cocked an eyebrow. “Opileskiwan?”

“Yes. The gray stallion you brought me as a gift of peace, remember?” she reminded him.

“Of course, I remember! Opileskiwan. Hm. Such an odd name for a horse,” John Rolfe remarked. Pocahontas peered at him and Rolfe held up his hands. “Not that I dislike it. It’s certainly very unique. What in the world does it mean?” he curiously inquired.

Pocahontas smiled. “It means ‘soft nose.’”

John Rolfe paused and burst into light laughter. “On the contrary, that is an excellent name for a horse. They certainly do have soft noses, I’ll gladly admit,” he returned.

Pocahontas’s smile widened. “That’s what I thought when you presented him to us. I had seen some of the horses in Jamestown, but never gotten to touch one before,” she giggled.

Pocahontas led John Rolfe and Chief Powhatan through the village and then back to the chief’s family longhouse. The young Powhatan princess headed straight for the door of their home. “Wait, I thought we were going to a stable,” John Rolfe uttered in confusion, albeit he readily followed Pocahontas inside when she beckoned him.

“I want to pack you some food first. If Jamestown is having a shortage, I can’t just send you there without making sure you will have something to eat,” Pocahontas said.

“Oh,” John Rolfe murmured.

Pocahontas dug up Rolfe’s old rucksack from the trip and sifted through it, taking out all unnecessary tools and pots. Chief Powhatan sat on his throne as he waited. Rolfe was admiring one of the painted skins all the while, not really paying attention. He jumped in surprise when Pocahontas spoke his name with a tone of displeasure. “John, what’s this?”

When John Rolfe glanced over, Pocahontas was holding up a familiar item. It was the red fox mask he had found somewhere along their journey. He recalled having left it behind in the snow and raised a brow in surprise at the sight of it. “How did that get here?”

“I don’t know,” Pocahontas shot back. “You tell me. It was in _your_ rucksack.”

John Rolfe looked insulted. “Are you accusing me of smuggling that thing here behind your back? I know nothing of it!” he countered, waving a hand dismissively in the air.

“Don’t lie!” Pocahontas charged. “I told you I wanted to leave this behind, so why is it here? I doubt the mask just sprouted legs and crawled into your travel pack on its own.”

John Rolfe’s face fell, hurt by the accusation. Pocahontas really did not believe him. He huffed. “Pocahontas, listen to me. If I had wanted that mask so badly, I would’ve argued with you and insisted on keeping it. The fact of the matter is that I didn’t care that much, so I went with what you wanted to do with it. The last thing I would do is go behind your back and sneak that item into my rucksack knowing full well I was going against your wishes and lying about it!” the British gentleman exclaimed, indignant.

Pocahontas still had her eyes narrowed at him in suspicion, though Rolfe had made a compelling argument. Chief Powhatan peered from his daughter to John Rolfe and back again, totally confused. The two were arguing like an old married couple. “Pocahontas, what’s the big deal? It’s just a mask,” he blurted, not understanding why she cared about such an insignificant item. “If you don’t want it, give it to me and I’ll get rid of it.”

“No!” Pocahontas cried, holding it to her chest protectively. John Rolfe and Powhatan gazed at her as if she had just grown a second head. She laughed nervously, looking down at the mask. “No, I mean… I-I couldn’t ask you to do that, Father. I can take care of it myself. It’s not really a big deal. Sorry, John,” she apologized, reaching up to the bench above her bed. She pulled down a tan buckskin hide and wrapped the red fox mask up in it, stuffing it under her bed. Anything under her bed was completely off-limits to others. All of the villagers knew not to touch the personal belongings of other people, so she knew the mask would not be bothered. She stood up and faced them, simpering.

John Rolfe gave her a momentary look of skepticism before brushing the matter off his shoulders. “Right then, you were packing me a lunch as I recall?” Rolfe reminded her.

“Oh, right,” Pocahontas said. She picked up the rucksack, carried it to the food storage in the back of the room, and loaded it with nuts, dried fruits, corn, beans, and meat jerkies.

“Whoa!” Rolfe protested. “That’s a lot of food. Is it necessary, Pocahontas? I should be back by this evening with the medical equipment for your brother’s care anyway.”

Pocahontas grinned. “Just a precaution. If you don’t need all of it, you can bring it back when you return,” she replied, tying down the flap so nothing would fall out. She handed the fairly heavy pack to John Rolfe and patted him on the shoulder. “Now, to the stable.”

John Rolfe and Chief Powhatan followed Pocahontas out the door and around the longhouse. The little stable was right behind the building, just out of view. Neither horse was visible from the top of the stalls at first so Pocahontas got worried that someone might have let them out early. The Powhatan princess ran over only to discover the two horses curled up together in the hay on the ground. The gray stallion was resting his back against a wall and the smaller white mare was leaning against him, nuzzling his shoulder. When Rolfe caught up with her, they both burst into laughter at the sight of the equine lovebirds. “Snow Angel, my dear, I see that you have found yourself a nice gentleman friend,” Rolfe remarked in amusement, carrying the pack over his shoulder.

“I wonder if they’ll make foals for us,” Pocahontas thought aloud.

“What is it?” Powhatan asked as he caught up with them, peering over the wall of the stall. His eyes widened. “They do indeed seem fond of each other,” Powhatan agreed.

John Rolfe chuckled. “Opileskiwan, old chap, have you found your soul mate?” The stallion bobbed his head. “Good man!” Rolfe concluded, slapping the wooden rail. “If you don’t mind, I’ll need to borrow her just for a bit.” He whistled for Snow Angel. The mare rose to her feet and shook out her coat, whinnying as Rolfe opened the door to the stable. “Come along, Snow Angel. I’ll be needing a ride to get where I’m going.”

She trod out of the stall and turned to nibble on Rolfe’s hair. He patted her nose and slung his rucksack over her shoulders, deftly hopping onto her back. “Don’t you want that tied down?” Pocahontas inquired, pointing to the rucksack. “Won’t you use a saddle?”

He shook his head. “Not necessary for a short ride. Besides, my father taught me how to ride bareback,” John Rolfe replied, giving Snow Angel the signal to start walking.

Pocahontas moved in front of them, bringing the mare to a stop. Snow Angel whinnied in surprise. “Wait! I want to go with you,” Pocahontas declared, whistling for Opileskiwan.

“No!” Chief Powhatan and John Rolfe charged in unison, startling Pocahontas. The stallion rose to his feet and walked out of the stable and right up to her, oblivious.

She peered at both men with an alarmed expression. “Why not?”

“It isn’t safe, Pocahontas. It isn’t safe for any of your people to approach Jamestown until I have ensured the settlers won’t take up arms against you or anyone else,” Rolfe said.

Powhatan decreed, “I will not have it, Daughter! For all we know, they might kidnap you to ransom more corn out of us. We need that food to survive this coming bad winter.”

Pocahontas frowned and peered at Rolfe again. “He’s right, Pocahontas. I’ll let you know as soon as it’s safe for you to come visit the settlement. But you mustn’t go anywhere near it before then, understand? Not even to look at it from a distance. Promise me!”

Pocahontas shot John Rolfe a petulant grimace, but then cast her gaze downward and reluctantly nodded. “Fine, I promise,” she murmured. She met his eyes again with a serious expression. “But you must check on Samuel Quincy and his wife and daughter for me, John! I’m a friend of the family and I need to know if they’re alright.”

John Rolfe nodded. “Of course, I’ll ask after them. I should be back by this evening at the latest. Now, unless there’s any last minute business, I must say adieu to the both of you.”

Chief Powhatan waved goodbye and Rolfe gave a nod, signaling Snow Angel to go. The mare whinnied and trod off down the path the village warriors had dug earlier, leaving Powhatan and his daughter behind. Once he was gone, Pocahontas started wringing her hands. “Is something wrong, Daughter?” Powhatan asked, ushering her to their home.

Pocahontas walked with him. “I just really hope everything goes alright. I know John will do everything he can, but I’m still worried. Hungry people can be desperate. The food shortage is still an issue, even if we strike up peace with the settlers again. I just don’t see any feasible solution if there isn’t enough maize to feed everyone through the winter.”

Powhatan appeared to be very concerned as well. “It troubles me greatly too, Pocahontas. But just because we don’t see the solution yet doesn’t mean there isn’t one. Yes, I sorely wish the settlers had listened to me this spring and planted enough food to sustain themselves over the winter. Maybe they’ll finally learn their lesson if they suffer enough hunger pangs. I just hope that such a lesson will not cost any lives. That seems too severe a punishment, especially considering the ones to suffer the most will likely have had the least say in the decision not to plant food in the spring,” the chief pointed out.

Chief Powhatan held the door open for his daughter. She was about to step inside when a familiar voice called to her. “Pocahontas!” her best friend cried, bolting toward her.

Pocahontas spun around, her frown turning upside down in an instant. “Nakoma!” she blared, running to meet her. They embraced when they reached each other. “Oh, Nakoma, I have missed you so much! You have no idea what I’ve been through!” she expressed.

“Pocahontas, I thought I’d never see you again! Chogan just told me the news. Are you alright? What happened? Where have you been and why did your ship never come into port? You…” Nakoma prattled, pulling away from her best friend. She was shocked by the sight of Pocahontas. “You look… different. Your hair, what happened to it? It’s even shorter than mine now,” she noted, running her fingers through her friend’s locks.

Rather than respond to Nakoma, Pocahontas was preoccupied with staring wide-eyed down at the woman’s swollen abdomen. The Powhatan princess clapped a hand over her mouth excitedly. Nakoma had to follow her gaze downward to discover what had surprised her so. _“Nakoma, congratulations,”_ Pocahontas murmured in wonderment, placing one hand on her friend’s belly and the other over her own heart. “How long?” she asked, meeting her friend’s eye again. “Oh, I can’t wait to meet him or her!”

Nakoma’s face beamed with pride as she beheld her pregnancy. “Five moons. We expect him or her to be born sometime in the spring. Chogan is very excited!” she revealed.

“Nakoma, I know you’re going to make a fantastic mother. I couldn’t be happier for you. Have you made a cradleboard yet?” Pocahontas interrogated, excited to learn more.

Nakoma bounced up and down in delight. “Nah, I’m going to use my mother’s old one. The same one she used with me. It’s not like she’s going to be having any more children.”

Pocahontas nodded. “That makes sense since you’re her eldest. None of your brothers or sisters are even married yet. So have you considered any possible names?” she inquired.

“Not yet. Chogan and I have decided to wait until we actually see the baby with our own eyes. The theory is that we’ll feel inspired by the sight of him or her and the right name will just come to us. What do you think?” Nakoma asked, hoping for a nod of approval.

Pocahontas giggled. “Nothing wrong with giving it a try.”

“Pocahontas,” Powhatan called to her, “I’m going to meet with the elders while you have your reunion with your friend. Don’t forget to stick around for the village meeting later.”

“Yes, Father!” Pocahontas replied.

The chief disappeared into the longhouse while Pocahontas followed Nakoma back to the latter’s yehakin so that they could catch up. Nakoma’s husband Chogan had just left on a daylong hunting trip, thereby giving the women plenty of time to themselves.

…

John Rolfe and Snow Angel made their way through the white winter forest. Because of the snow, it took more time than usual to reach Jamestown. But the moment they emerged from the forest and came upon the sight of the fortress, the white mare whinnied in fright and reared high in the air. The Englishman and his rucksack were thrown right off of her back. Fortunately, he had a pillow-soft landing in the white powder behind her. “Oof!”

Snow Angel turned tail and fled back the way she had come, spooked out of her mind. John Rolfe struggled to his feet and shook a fist in her wake. “Snow Angel! You get back here, you silly horse! What’s the matter with you?” he called, but she was already gone.

John Rolfe growled in irritation. _Now, what could’ve gotten into her?_ the young diplomat wondered to himself, picking up his rucksack. John Rolfe propped it up on the snow and maneuvered it onto his back, pushing his arms through the straps. Then he tied the belt strap around his waist for support. _Well, at least I’m already here. Not much farther._ He waded slowly through the snow until he emerged upon a bluff overlooking the settlement. Everything appeared relatively normal, except the fort was snowed in as expected. If they had not alienated the Powhatans, the warriors would probably be helping them dig out at present. Rolfe sighed and shook his head, taking a step forward in the deep snow.

**BANG!**

A gunshot rang out, exploding against a tree two feet to John Rolfe’s left. Fearing for his life, he hit the snow. “HOLD YOUR FIRE!” Rolfe bellowed at the top of his lungs.

“Who goes there?!” came the distant response.

“John Rolfe! Why are you shooting at me?!” he returned, keeping low. There was an extended moment of silence and John Rolfe started to get worried. “Hello?!” he called.

A guard finally called back to him, “Approach!”

John Rolfe grumbled in anger, pushing himself up from the fluffy ground and back onto his feet. The young gentleman waded through the snow to the edge of the bluff and allowed himself to tumble down into the soft powder below. Then John Rolfe got to his feet again and continued in the direction of the settlement, getting winded along the way. By the time he arrived at the gates, he was panting and pretty much out of breath.

Three guards peered down at him. “What are you doing outside the fortress?” one of them charged. “Don’t you know the governor’s law? And why are you dressed Injun?”

John Rolfe drew his brows together at the rude tone in the man’s voice. The fools were acting like they did not even know who he was. “I told you, men, I am John Rolfe. Didn’t you hear me? I’ve come on the authority of King James. The answer to all three of those insolent questions is a long story. Now, if you’d kindly open the gates, I have business!”

The men whispered amongst themselves. When they were done, the tallest one turned back to him. “John Rolfe? We thought you returned to London last winter.”

John Rolfe slapped his forehead. “Yes, but I came back! It’s part of the story. Let me in!”

“We’re a bit snowed in at the moment, Lord Rolfe. We’ll send men out straightaway to clear the gate. I’m afraid you will have to wait a bit, chap,” the shortest guard replied.

 _Chap?_ John Rolfe thought crankily. _Just who do you think you’re talking to?_ He huffed and untied the belt strap, dropping his rucksack. Then he folded his arms grumpily over his chest and plopped down into the snow to wait. “Hurry, please. I haven’t got all day!”

A minute later, three men with shovels jumped over the wall and landed in a pile of snow outside the fortress. They quickly went to work clearing the snow that blocked the gateway into the small settlement. The wait was close to twenty minutes. By the time the gate was ready to open, John Rolfe’s bottom was ice-cold. He pushed himself back up to his feet and grabbed the travel pack, hefting it up onto his back again. The men were only able to open the gate a crack, so the irked diplomat was forced to squeeze through. The moment he entered and peered around, lots of pairs of eyes were staring at him. Women and children peeked out of windows. The local blacksmith stopped his work. Even the inside shovelers stopped shoveling. John Rolfe stood up straight with his usual air of authority and turned to the three guards. “Now, I would like to know which one of you clowns shot at me. I could’ve been killed!” he charged, glaring at each one in turn.

The two taller ones pointed to the shortest one and Rolfe turned his full attention to that individual. The guilty party shrugged. “I thought you was an Injun from the distance.”

“And why, pray tell, were you attempting to shoot at Indians? Did our Lord Almighty not make the command ‘Thou shalt not kill’?” Rolfe spoke. He waved the men off, sneering at them. “Shameless sinners, the lot of you! I’m off to the Mother Wiggins Inn.”

The irate Englishman left his brethren standing there dumbfounded as he trod along a narrow shoveled path towards the inn. He passed by the governor’s mansion along the way, a building obscene in size and decor compared to every other in the settlement. The diplomat knocked on the door of the inn as he arrived. A few moments later, the door swung open and John Rolfe was greeted by a smiling face that he recognized well. “Hello and welcome to the Mother Wiggins Inn! I am afraid we haven’t any victuals to offer, but beds are certainly available!” Wiggins greeted, gasping the moment that he recognized John Rolfe’s face. “Lord Rolfe?! You…” the man uttered, looking Rolfe up and down. His eyes widened and he flashed a grin. “You’re dressed like an Indian. How quaint.”

John Rolfe smiled and offered a handshake. “Pleased to meet your acquaintance once again, Mr. Wiggins. I am here on investigation and on a diplomatic mission to repair the relations between the settlement and the natives. To do that, I will need your hospitality. Do not worry about feeding me, I’ve brought my own sustenance. May I come in?”

“Oh, I do thank the heavens!” Wiggins cried, casting a grateful glance to the skies. “You must be the savior I’ve prayed for. Come in and make yourself at home.” The innkeeper stepped aside and waved John Rolfe to enter, which he did. “You want the private room again, sir? It’s available! Business hasn’t been so good lately due to the food shortage.”

“Yes, but first I must speak with you about payment. May I rely on a tab for now? You see, I was on a ship heading here, but it was attacked by pirates. I’m afraid the money and belongings I had with me are no more and I’ll have to send to England for more currency. When it arrives, I’ll be able to pay off the debts that I accumulate here,” Rolfe explained, brushing the snow off himself. He dropped his pack and unbuttoned his coat.

Wiggins gasped, a look of abhorrence befalling his features. “Pirates?! How frightful!”

“Oh, it was frightful indeed,” Rolfe confirmed. “Would you believe that I met the dreaded Captain Bleud and Finley Flame face-to-face. All of the rumors are true, I tell you!”

The innkeeper pressed the back of his hand against his forehead, looking faint. “Oh, you poor soul. How ever did you survive? I… Oh, look at me! Interrogating you when you’ve already been through so much. Please give me your coat. I’ll hang it up in the closet.”

John Rolfe handed over his coat. Once it was put away, he followed the innkeeper to the only private bedroom in the inn. The bed was made and the sheets were fresh. Rolfe put his rucksack down by the desk and turned back to Wiggins. “I’ll be in need of parchment. I’ve got letters to write, among many things. When is the next ship expected to arrive?”

“The next ship?” Wiggins repeated, putting a finger to his lower lip in a moment of thought. “I do recall the governor saying it would not be until late winter to early spring, I’m afraid. I worry that our poor settlement won’t make it that long. The governor has us on very strict rations,” the innkeeper explained dejectedly, placing a hand to his growling stomach. “Now, while we may be short on food, I’m happy to report that parchment is quite plentiful. I shall go fetch some for you straight away, Lord Rolfe.” Wiggins took a gracious bow and then he hustled out the bedroom door to fulfill Rolfe’s request.

John Rolfe pulled off his snow pants and hung them over the mantle of the fireplace to dry on the outside, though it was yet to be lit. He sighed and sat on the bed, sprawling out across it to think. Wiggins returned within a few minutes with a stack of parchment under one arm. He carried a quill in one hand and a bottle of ink in the other. The innkeeper placed all the items on the writing desk. “Is there anything else I can do for you at the moment, Lord Rolfe, or would you like some time alone?” Wiggins asked, glancing over at the fireplace. “Oh, I must start you a fire right away to dry your things!”

John Rolfe sat up on the bed and rubbed his chin. “Yes. Come to think of it, I could also use a warm bath, a shave, and a change of clothes before I get started.”

They heard the sound of a closing door from the front of the inn. Wiggins glanced back in the direction of the noise and smiled. He clapped his hands together in excitement a few times as he turned back toward Rolfe. “Ah, that must be Mrs. Breckinridge. She works at the inn as a maid. Also happens to be a seamstress in her spare time. I’ll have her draw you a bath right away. I’m sure she can take care of all of your personal needs, sir.”

“That would be excellent. Thank you, Mr. Wiggins,” John Rolfe replied, rising to his feet. The young gentleman hung his snow pants from the fireplace mantle and pulled the chair back over to the writing desk in the corner, plopping down. Opening the ink bottle, he dipped the tip of the quill pen into the swarthy fluid. The first thing he did was make a list of the tasks that he had to do, wracking his brain to remember all of them. _1\. Check on the Quincy family. 2. Borrow medical supplies from the Jamestown doctor. 3. Interview a few Jamestown inhabitants about the food shortage and the conflict with the Powhatans. 4. Discuss the king’s order with the governor. 5. Obtain musket balls from the Jamestown arsenal. 6. Teach Chief Powhatan’s warriors to shoot. 7. Pen the tale of my travels with Pocahontas. 8. Letters to Mum and Dad, King James, and Captain John Smith._

Knowing he would have to wait until after his bath to carry out the first items on his agenda, Rolfe went ahead and began to write the tale of his travels as Wiggins returned to the room with a candle. The innkeeper lit the hearth and silently departed, leaving Rolfe to continue his work in peace. The diplomat started his tale with the pirate attack. He was busy describing life aboard the pirate vessel when Mrs. Breckinridge knocked on the open bedroom door to get his attention. “Lord Rolfe, your bath is ready. Would you like me to give you a shave afterward or do you prefer to do it yourself, sir?” she inquired.

“I can do it,” John Rolfe replied, turning to greet her. She was a thin woman about a foot taller than Mrs. Jenkins. Appearing to be in her late thirties, she still had a comely face with minimal signs of aging. “Thank you. Have you anything for me to wear afterward?”

“In fact, I do! You look to be about the same size as my late husband, Mr. Breckinridge. I’ll run home and get you some of his old clothes that are still in good condition. Do ring the bell in the bathroom if you need anything at all, my lord,” she said on a final note.

Then Mrs. Breckinridge was gone. John Rolfe set his writing implements aside and left the bedroom, walking through the short hall to the bathing chamber. He moved around the privacy screen to the four-legged bathtub full of soapy water. A board lying across the rim of the tub provided soap, sponge, back-scrubber, and shaving tools. Testing the temperature, he found it to his liking and began to disrobe. Once he was resting in the bathwater, he heard a knock on the door on the other side of the privacy screen. “Lord Rolfe, I’m leaving your vestments on a stool over here. Again, ring the bell if you need anything at all. I’ll be sweeping the floors nearby,” Mrs. Breckinridge said.

“Thank you, madam!” he replied. As the door creaked shut, he foamed up the back-scrubber and sponge with soap and began bathing. Once he had cleaned his body, he washed his hair and used his fingers to massage his scalp. He gathered his hair up into a swirl atop his head and turned his attention to the shaving equipment, lathering his face with shaving cream. Fortunately, a floor mirror had been placed nearby. He reached over and turned it toward him so that he could see what he was doing. After he had given himself the closest shave possible, he rinsed the razor and dipped his head into the water to rinse out his hair. He washed all the suds off and wrung out his hair, pushing himself to his feet. As he stepped out of the tub, he grabbed a linen cloth off a shelf and used it to dry himself. He used the cloth to squeeze the extra moisture out of his hair and then went to investigate the clothing that Mrs. Breckinridge had left behind for his use.

John Rolfe immediately recognized that the clothes were of high quality. The maid had laid out a pair of off-white hose, red breeches with a matching cloak, a plain white dress shirt, a warm gold-colored vest, and a wide-brimmed red hat with a yellow feather. On the floor beside the stool stood a pair of dark brown heeled leather boots, highly polished. Rolfe could only assume the lovely garments had been the late Mr. Breckinridge’s Sunday clothes. The Englishman put them on and found they fit relatively well, though perhaps were better suited to a slightly portlier man. Rolfe knew he had lost weight on the journey and probably quite a bit of it. Given the food shortage, he realized he would have to wait until summer to get back in proper shape after the first crops came in.

The Englishman returned to his bedroom and sat at the desk near the fire to let his hair dry out, knowing better than to venture out into the cold with wet hair. He deposited the red hat in the middle of the bed. In the meantime, John Rolfe continued to write his memoirs. By the time his hair was dry, it was perhaps mid-morning. He brushed and tied his hair back before putting on the hat. Then he gathered up his quill, ink, and a bundle of parchment, heading out to the front of the inn. He found the innkeeper at the greeting desk. “Mr. Wiggins, I must be off to run a few critically important errands. Do you by chance know the whereabouts of the Quincy family? Pocahontas asked me to check on them while I was here,” John Rolfe spoke suddenly, gaining the thin man’s attention.

Wiggins’s eyes widened. _“Pocahontas? She lives?”_ he murmured, pressing a hand to his heart. “Bless my soul, were you on the same ship with her that never came to port?”

“That is correct, Mr. Wiggins,” John Rolfe returned, nodding. “Pocahontas is back in Werowocomoco with her father, safe and sound. You are a friend of hers, are you not?”

“Of course! When John Smith’s ship came in, I was devastated to think the poor girl might be dead or lost. Oh! Has Percy returned as well? How I’ve missed his precious little pug-nosed face! He was supposed to stay with me while Pocahontas was in England, but he vanished when the ship left. I felt so guilty for letting him go!” Wiggins lamented, pressing the back of his wrist to his forehead in a manner most dramatic. “Oh, tell me that he is alright, Lord Rolfe! Please, oh please, tell me he’s alright!”

“Percy is doing well,” John Rolfe was pleased to report. “He is with Pocahontas at the moment, along with Meeko and Flit. They are all perfectly fine. But, as I said, she has requested that I check in with the Quincy family to see if they are doing alright. She is very worried about her friends in Jamestown, given the food shortage.”

“The Quincys live on the other side of the settlement, in the cottage with the blue-painted front door. I haven’t a clue how they’re doing since we’ve not spoken in a while. You’ll have to go see for yourself. Do give me the news when you get back. Last I heard Mrs. Quincy had fallen ill, but it’s possible she may have recovered by now,” Wiggins replied.

John Rolfe’s eyes widened a bit in concern. He drew his brows together and bobbed his head. “Right then. Do wait up for me. I’ll be back by the afternoon at the latest.”

Wiggins rushed by and opened the door for him. “Good luck, sir! I’ll be here as always.”

John Rolfe tipped his hat and left.


	2. Meeko the Messenger

John Rolfe rapped on the pale blue door to the Quincys’ cottage. Hannah Quincy opened the door, looking more or less gaunt about the face. She appeared to be intimidated by Rolfe’s sudden arrival. “Is there something I can do for you, sir?” she timidly asked.

The Englishman offered her a smile and a handshake. “Greetings, madam. You must be Mrs. Quincy. My name is John Rolfe and I come on behalf of Princess Pocahontas. She’s returned to her village. Hearing of the famine here, she’s worried about her friends who live in Jamestown and has asked me to come check to see if your family is doing alright.”

The woman jerked backward in shock, slapping a hand over her chest. All she could do at first was gape at him.  _ “She’s truly alive?” _ she uttered, receiving a nod. “Oh, heavens be praised! We were led to believe she might be dead when a ship captained by John Smith came.” She stepped forward, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. “Please, do come in.” She called over her shoulder. “Rebeccah! Rebeccah, my dear! Come here right away!”

John Rolfe stepped into the family’s small kitchen. Mrs. Quincy offered him a chair at the table. “Thank you, madam,” he said as a young adolescent girl rushed into the room.

“What is it, Mum?” Rebeccah asked as she set eyes on John Rolfe. “Who is that man?”

John Rolfe sat down and placed his writing equipment on the wooden tabletop. He could not help noticing how skinny the young girl was, far too much so for her age. The family had to be even more food-deprived than others. Mrs. Quincy sat on the other side of the table. “My dear, this man’s name is John Rolfe. He comes with news of Pocahontas. She is alive! He’s informed me she is safely back in her village with her father!” she divulged.

The young lady appeared faint.  _ “Oh my…” _

John Rolfe jumped up from the table and caught Rebeccah before she could fall and hurt herself. He pulled a chair out for her. “Careful. Heavens! You must be anemic, my dear. Pocahontas won’t be pleased to hear this,” he remarked, helping Rebeccah into the seat.

“We haven’t had much to eat, sir,” Mrs. Quincy sorrowfully revealed. “Whatever we get, we give most of it to our daughter, but it is nowhere near enough for a growing girl.”

John Rolfe frowned. “That is dreadful. Where is Mr. Quincy if I might ask?”

“Shoveling with the other men,” Mrs. Quincy replied. “I fear for his health even more.”

John Rolfe knitted his brows. “If Mr. Quincy hasn’t enough to eat, he shouldn’t be engaging in any such labor. Can you please go fetch him? I must speak with him as well.”

“He has no choice. The governor holds a grudge against my dear husband. Last spring, Samuel went against the man’s orders and tried to plant corn in one of the fields outside the fortress. Thomas West had the sprouts torn up like they were weeds and then replanted sweet tobacco in their place. He punished Samuel with hard labor. And when the food shortage struck this winter, he punished our whole family by putting us on stricter rations than everyone else. We are in a dire situation, sir,” Mrs. Quincy explained, her eyes full of mournful sorrow. “We will starve to death before spring.”

Rebeccah sniffled and wiped a tear away. “And they’re saying the famine will get worse. There just isn’t enough food. Governor West says the Indians have turned hostile so they will not help us this winter. But,” she paused, a hopeful look in her eyes, “if Pocahontas is back now, can she stop the conflict? Will she send us food like she did before?”

“Young Ms. Quincy, I am afraid that you all have been lied to. The Powhatans are not hostile. It is our own settlement that has been hostile to them. Governor West sent a villainous band of men to attack them and steal food yesterday. Pocahontas’s dear brother Keme was badly injured in the tussle,” John Rolfe readily related. “It is a bad situation on both sides. The Powhatans are facing the possibility of famine themselves because of a bad drought this summer. Their crop yields were much lower than in previous years. And now they have to worry about their meager supply being plundered by the irresponsible men of Jamestown who refused to plant their own food this past spring.”

The news from John Rolfe was so shocking that the two females could do nothing but stare at him in silence. Mother and daughter exchanged fearful glances. “John Rolfe, sir…” Mrs. Quincy began hesitantly. “How is it that you know all of this?”

John Rolfe flashed the women a reserved smile. “I spent the night in the village and saw the poor wounded man for myself. I have promised Chief Powhatan that I would obtain the tools necessary to treat the injury and so I will,” the gentleman explained.

“The poor Indians!” Rebeccah exclaimed. “I had no idea things were so bad for them.” 

“But how were you able to get outside the fortress in the first place?” Hannah Quincy further interrogated. “Governor West has ordained that no settlers are to leave Jamestown without his direct consent. He claims that the Indians have become so hostile that they’ll kill any white man, woman, or child who steps foot outside the fort walls. It’s impossible to even get past the guards who control the gates,” the woman worriedly expressed.

“I wasn’t in the fortress to begin with,” John Rolfe clarified. “Pocahontas and I were both on the supply ship which never came to port. It was attacked by a band of wicked pirates. When we finally escaped them, we had to embark on a long difficult journey to return to Virginia. We stopped at Werowocomoco last night before I came here earlier this morning to investigate and resolve the conflict. Long story short, that’s how I got here.”

“Pirates?!” mother and daughter cried in unison.

Rebeccah panicked. “Oh no, poor Pocahontas! The pirates didn’t hurt her, did they?”

John Rolfe shook his head. “Course not. They did try, but I would never have let them do such a thing. Pocahontas is fine if not a bit traumatized by the brutalities we witnessed.”

The girl rose from her seat and embraced John Rolfe. “Thank you for protecting her, sir! She’s my best friend in the world!” Rebeccah cried, burying her face in his chest.

John Rolfe flushed a bit at first, but he patted the girl’s upper back. “Think nothing of it.”

Rebeccah drew back and slowly sat down again, looking wobbly on her feet. “Lord Rolfe,” her mother began, “what was it that you said about our soldiers attacking the Indians? Governor West told us that they were going to the village to attempt to trade for corn. It was early this morning that he announced that the Powhatans had refused to trade, attacking our men instead. He claims that the soldiers then returned empty-handed last night. There was absolutely no news of them bringing food, stolen or otherwise.”

“They stole three hundred bushels of corn,” John Rolfe returned. “You’re telling me you know nothing of this? The Powhatans will need at least half back to survive the winter.”

Mrs. Quincy and Rebeccah shook their heads. “A snowstorm was starting when they got back so we were not able to see the men returning. I suppose it’s possible they could have smuggled corn into the settlement. But why would they do that and not tell us about it? They could have easily claimed they had legitimately traded for it since we are allowed anywhere near the natives these days. I don’t understand,” Mrs. Quincy expressed.

John Rolfe scratched his chin and started taking notes on his parchment. “Something about all of this seems fishy to me, very fishy indeed. I intend to get to the bottom of it!”

“I will pray for Pocahontas’s brother,” Rebeccah offered. “I hope he will be alright.”

John Rolfe patted the girl’s shoulder. “I intend to make sure he’ll be alright, my dear.” He turned his attention to Mrs. Quincy. “Madam, can you go fetch your husband? I’d like to speak to him too. Tell him he is relieved from duties on the orders of Lord John Rolfe.”

“Oh, thank you, sir!” Mrs. Quincy cried, clasping her hands over her heart. She stood up from her seat and went out the door, returning with Samuel Quincy some minutes later.

The man was on the verge of emaciation and shivering badly. It greatly concerned Rolfe. “Sir, have a seat. I have been talking with your family about the deplorable conditions in Jamestown,” the diplomat explained, pulling out a chair for the gaunt bearded man.

Mr. Quincy trembled like an old-timer as he took a seat. “You say Pocahontas is alive?”

“Yes, she is. Might I inquire if you are ill?” John Rolfe asked.

Samuel Quincy shook his head. “Just cold,” he shortly replied, despite being wrapped up in heavy winter clothing. He did not even take the garments off once he had entered the warm atmosphere of the house and he was still trembling. “It’s hard to get warm these days. I never thought we’d have another winter like the one a few years back, but it looks like we will. We must have done something to anger our Lord in heaven.”

John Rolfe pursed his lips. “I don’t know about you all, but someone surely did. Listen, the governor has been up to some malicious mischief. He sent a band of men to rob the Powhatans at gunpoint yesterday. They stole three hundred bushels of corn, an amount the natives could not afford to trade because they suffered a drought this year which drastically reduced their crop yields. Mrs. Quincy has indicated that she knows nothing of this maize that was allegedly taken. Do you have any idea where the governor might have hidden it, Mr. Quincy?” the young gentleman inquired with a tone of concern.

Mr. Quincy’s eyes widened. “I’ve heard nothing of this either. Most of the settlers aren’t allowed to see inside the storehouse. When it’s time for rations, we line up outside to receive our share. It is possible they are storing the corn in there. But why would they lie? Why conceal it from the settlement? Are you sure they took three hundred bushels?”

John Rolfe nodded. “One hundred percent certain. Pocahontas’s brother Keme was shot in the leg during the raid. I intend to bring the man responsible for that injury to justice.”

“Heavens! Is he alright?” cried Mr. Quincy.

John Rolfe shook his head. “He’s wounded. I intend to help the medicine man remove the bullet so he should eventually be alright, but the surgery will hurt like hellfire.”

“But how will you be able to help them? The guards will let no one outside of the gates without the governor’s express permission, but he refuses to even see anyone face-to-face most of the time. So how will you obtain that permission even if Thomas West is willing to give it?” Samuel Quincy asked worriedly. “The governor is a baron from the English countryside. Do you have a station to match, Lord Rolfe? Oh please, say you do!”

John Rolfe shook his head again. “Governor West outranks me. However, I come on the authority of King James and a king certainly outranks a baron. I’ll demand to talk to the governor to get his side of the story first. I’d rather not have him deposed if he can be reasoned with,” the diplomat indicated. “He deserves a chance to explain himself.”

“I fear you will have no luck, Lord Rolfe, but I trust you’ll do the right thing, whatever happens,” Mr. Quincy replied. “Even if the problems with the governor are resolved though, I fear we are in for a bad winter. I can see no way around the food shortage.”

John Rolfe rose to his feet with his papers and offered Mr. Quincy a handshake. “Keep praying to the heavens and we just might find a way around it. I thank you for taking the time to talk to me, sir. I’ll drop by later today with a present for you all, but I have some other errands to run first.” Samuel Quincy looked interested at the mention of a present and readily shook hands with Rolfe. His grip was a little weak, but the diplomat did not mind. “Furthermore, I give you permission to take the next three days off. If anyone has got a problem with that, send them to talk to me. I am staying at the Mother Wiggins Inn, so they should have no trouble finding me,” he said, bending over the table and filling out a piece of parchment as a permission slip. He signed it and handed it over to Mr. Quincy. “If anyone protests, just show them that,” John Rolfe quickly instructed.

“Thank you, Lord Rolfe!” Mr. And Mrs. Quincy exclaimed at the same time.

John Rolfe tipped his hat. Mrs. Quincy showed him to the door and let him out after a few short farewells. Then onward Rolfe went to check the Jamestown storehouse.

…

Pocahontas and Nakoma sat on the floor of the latter’s wigwam, sewing clothes by the fire as they talked. Pocahontas’s attention dwelled on her best friend’s abdomen. Nakoma caught her staring and flashed Pocahontas an impish grin. “It’s okay, Pocahontas. I’m two years older. You’ve got plenty of time. I bet you can’t wait for John Smith to get back.”

The Powhatan princess looked curious as she made stitches. “He’s coming back?”

“Well, yes! Once he finds out you’re here, I’m sure he’ll be in on the next ship. Why do you think he came here in the first place?” Nakoma pointed out, cocking a brow at her.

Pocahontas raised a brow too. “Mattachanna said he never mentioned why he came here in the first place. So I haven’t a clue. Last I heard from him, he was off on some new big adventure,” she expressed, sighing in regret. “I should’ve asked him to write this time.”

Nakoma laughed awkwardly. “Why would he go off on some big adventure?” she asked quizzically. “Surely, you’re the biggest adventure he could ever hope for.”

“John Smith is a voyage-bound wanderer at heart,” Pocahontas divulged, recalling their last conversation. “I doubt he’d ever be happy staying in the same place. When King James granted him his own ship, he asked me to sail off to new lands with him. But my heart belongs here with our people so I had to refuse. I will miss him though.”

Nakoma paused, an air of sincerity befalling her. She put down her sewing and turned to face Pocahontas fully. “Is this about what I said when you left? Never forget this land? Pocahontas, I didn’t mean to imply that you should set aside your happiness for our sake! If your path leads you to the open sea with John Smith, you have my blessing to go!”

Pocahontas was astounded. “What…? No! Nakoma, this has nothing to do with what you said to me! I returned because my heart belongs here with our people. If it didn’t, I would’ve left with John Smith right after he was injured by Ratcliffe all those years ago.”

Nakoma fell silent a moment. She gave Pocahontas a stern gaze. “Pocahontas, listen to me. Things were different in those days. You’ve been making sacrifices so long. All you ever think about is keeping peace with the settlers. Once this new peace treaty goes into effect, there won't be a need for you to stick around. We’ll all be fine, I’m sure of it.”

“What makes you think this is about self-sacrifice? Does it really seem that odd that I would forgo leaving my home to be with a man? I belong here, my heart belongs here, Tsenacomoco is where my path has led me back to. I could not be happy exploring lands, never to settle down. I need my home to be happy and this is my home, Nakoma.”

Nakoma watched Pocahontas in silence for a few moments as she continued to sew at a moderate pace. “Seriously?” Nakoma finally uttered. Pocahontas looked over at her. “Swear to me you aren’t saying these things just to make me happy. It’s true, you really wish to stay?” Nakoma urged, searching for reassurance in her friend’s dark brown eyes.

“I swear it on the spirit of my mother,” Pocahontas replied without hesitation.

Nakoma placed a hand over her heart and clambered forward, enveloping Pocahontas in a big hug. Pocahontas returned the affection. “And I couldn’t be happier!” Nakoma said, squeezing Pocahontas around the middle. “You’ll stay and help me raise my child? Be as beloved an aunt to my little ones as I will be to yours?” she suggested hopefully.

“Absolutely!” Pocahontas returned. “I can’t wait!”

Nakoma wiped a tear as it fell. She beamed with happiness as she took up her sewing again. “Ah ha ha,” she laughed merrily, “this is wonderful! I can hardly wait either.” Pocahontas replied with a wide smile of her own. They worked in silence for several minutes until Nakoma had a thought. “So I have a theoretical question, Pocahontas,” she expressed, narrowing her eyes cleverly as she gazed over at her lifelong friend.

Pocahontas peered up again. “Mm?”

“What if,” Nakoma began, pausing to increase anticipation of the question, “John Smith’s path leads him back here? Imagine if he came back and proposed marriage to you!”

Pocahontas’s heart stopped at the boldness of her friend’s sudden inquiry. Nakoma was normally much more subtle about such things. Pocahontas shook her head. “I do not wish to marry John Smith. I’ll always love him, but marriage is a serious matter due to the possibility of children. I don’t want to tie him down when I know he would rather be free to go where he chooses when he chooses. That wouldn’t be fair to him. If he did propose marriage, I would think he was making a mistake. It’s hard to imagine him married to anyone, to be honest. I guess the simple explanation is that our paths have diverged.”

Nakoma could hardly believe her ears. Was this the same girl who had cried her heart out at the news of John Smith’s death over a period of years, insisting over and over that she would never find love or happiness again? That John Smith had taken her heart with him when he had died? “Who are you exactly and what have you done with Pocahontas?” Nakoma charged, only half-serious. She did sound very worried though and her eyes were chock full of doubt. The princess could hardly blame Nakoma though. Pocahontas  _ had _ dramatically changed her tune since her younger years. That much was certain.

“I’ve had a change of heart, Nakoma,” Pocahontas admitted. She shook her head sadly, feeling her eyes prick with tears. “I’d rather not get into it. It’s a painful topic.”

Nakoma frowned in disappointment, peering down at her work sadly. “I guess you and I are even more different than I ever imagined. I’ve always dreamt a love like yours could have only one logical conclusion,” Nakoma said. “I mean, what else would there be?”

Pocahontas shook her head. “No, there are many more possibilities.”

Nakoma’s look of sadness turned thoughtful instead. She stopped working. “But that makes me wonder. Pocahontas, do you ever plan to marry at all? You’ve always seemed so fond of children. I guess I just naturally assumed that you would want to be a mother.”

Pocahontas glanced up with a reserved look on her face. “Let’s revisit that topic in the spring, shall we?” she suggested in an unintentionally Rolfe-like manner, hoping to put the subject off as long as possible. It made her feel guilty as Nakoma was one of her best friends. They normally trusted each other with all of their secrets. Pocahontas did not want to tell Nakoma about her desire to marry John Rolfe just yet for some reason, but she could not quite put her finger on why. That fact troubled the Powhatan princess.

Nakoma appeared confused by the answer. “How come?”

“If the food problem isn’t solved,” Pocahontas explained in a worried tone, “then there might be no future anyway. So what would be the point of planning it all out now?”

Nakoma looked concerned but eventually nodded. “I really hope the white man you sent to Jamestown is trustworthy, Pocahontas. You don’t think…?” she began fretfully.

“I trust him with my life, Nakoma,” Pocahontas assured her. “When I tell the story at the village meeting today, you will understand why,” she revealed, tying off another stitch.

Nakoma hesitantly nodded again. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

…

John Rolfe rapped on the door to Dr. Henry Leach’s abode. The quaint building, serving as both doctor’s office and home, was practically identical to every other house in Jamestown. Rolfe would not have been able to find it without Wiggins’s directions, which located it right beside the church. “I'm coming, I’m coming!” came the slightly irritated voice. The door swung open a moment later to a thin middle-aged man wearing spectacles. He was bald over the forehead and looked more than a little stressed out. The doctor looked Rolfe up and down, taking in his whole appearance. “Who are you? I’ve never seen you before,” he remarked. Suddenly his eyes shot open in a moment of realization. “Heavens be praised! Did the supply ship finally arrive?” he cried, pushing past the diplomat to get a view of the port. He raised his spectacles to his eyes and peered through them, spotting no white sails. The doctor frowned and glanced back at Rolfe.

“I did not arrive on a ship, sir,” John Rolfe replied. “Sorry to disappoint. I need to speak with a physician about a very serious matter. May I come in?” Rolfe quickly inquired.

Henry Leach’s face fell. He trudged back to the door of his home, holding it open for John Rolfe. “Yes, of course. Do come in, sir. You look to be in good health so I assume it is another matter you’ve come about?” the doctor estimated as the diplomat walked past him into the small abode. It was toasty warm inside as the hearth was burning bright.

John Rolfe spotted three cots around the room, two of which were occupied with patients. One was a small girl child and the other an elderly man. “What’s wrong with them?”

Dr. Leach shut the door and bolted it to keep out the cold. The man glanced back over his shoulder, hearing the visitor’s inquiry. “Poor little Suzie is sick with fever and Mr. Dods is… well, he is just dying of old age. He has no kith or kin to care for him in his illness so I’m doing so instead. All I can do is see to his comfort really. May our Lord and Savior come for him soon. He is suffering,” the doctor sorrowfully expressed. The bedridden man moaned in pain, thereby punctuating the words of Dr. Henry Leach.

“That’s awful,” John Rolfe replied. “I will pray for them both.”

Dr. Leach bobbed his head as he approached his kitchen table, gesturing for Rolfe to take a seat. “It is good of you to pray. May I take your cloak?” he inquired, offering a hand.

John Rolfe removed his red cloak and handed it to the doctor, who hung it up on a nearby hook. The diplomat took a seat and placed his papers down on the tabletop. “As I mentioned, I have come about a serious matter,” John Rolfe soon began as he laced his fingers together. “A man outside of this settlement is seriously injured by gunfire. He has a musket ball embedded in his thigh. I’m afraid his physical condition is bad enough that he can’t be moved. I was unable to bring him to Jamestown with me. That’s why I must inquire about the proper treatment for such an injury. I’ll need to borrow some tools to remove the musket ball myself,” the young British gentleman briefly explained.

The doctor’s eyes widened as he sat at the table. “Outside this settlement, you say? I’m sorry, my boy, but he’s as good as dead. The savages won’t let any white man, woman, or child come or go from the fortress. Didn’t you hear the news from the governor?”

John Rolfe frowned slightly. Indeed, the doctor was just as bigoted as Pocahontas had indicated. Henry Leach naturally assumed the man that Rolfe spoke of to be white and the diplomat was not about to contradict him. He held up a finger with a pleasant look on his face. “On the contrary, doctor. This injured man I speak of and I are on a truce with the local natives. That is why only I may go to see to my friend’s injuries. Otherwise, I’d naturally ask you to come along. But I do realize it would be unsafe for you to leave the fortress. I myself was at the village earlier today and, as you can see, the Powhatans did not harm a hair on my head,” John Rolfe explained, lying as little as he saw possible.

Dr. Leach looked stunned. “These things are true?” he inquired. John Rolfe nodded. “God be praised! But how will you get past the guards at the gates? No one’s allowed out.”

“I will obtain permission from the governor.”

Henry Leach hesitated before a look of relief befell him. “Alright then. I’ll pray for your luck in receiving it. I’ll get you set up with the tools of my trade, lad. What’s your name, by the way?” the doctor amiably inquired, rising to his feet to fetch the supplies.

“John Rolfe, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the gentleman replied, offering a handshake.

The doctor accepted it but then gasped. “Wait, you mean to say you’re Lord John Rolfe?”

“Yes, the same,” the diplomat confirmed.

Dr. Leach seemed flustered. “Forgive me, milord. I didn’t realize who I was talking to...”

“Not at all, doctor. You’ve been perfectly accommodating and I much appreciate it. Now, the equipment if you please?” John Rolfe reminded him, trying not to look overeager.

The doctor dropped his spectacles. He caught them in midair and shoved them back on. “Yes, of course! Right away, sir. I’m glad you brought paper because you will need to write some of this down. The procedure can seem a bit complicated if you have not done it before,” Dr. Leach disclosed, pacing over to his small walk-in supply closet. The fellow disappeared inside for a minute and returned with a briefcase, placing it on the small table between them. It took about thirty minutes for Dr. Leach to walk John Rolfe through the procedure several times, making extra certain that the diplomat knew what he was doing. “I’ll need the equipment back when you’re done with it, naturally,” he concluded

“Of course,” John Rolfe replied, taking the briefcase in hand.

The doctor took a piece of parchment and wrote something on it. “The last thing you’ll need is rum to treat the wound. I’ll write you a prescription so that you won’t be charged for it at the storehouse,” Dr. Leach indicated, quickly jotting the information down.

“Thank you, Dr. Leach!” John Rolfe replied, accepting the prescription. Henry Leach returned Rolfe’s cloak and showed him out the door. The doctor bade him good luck and farewell before pointing him in the direction of the storehouse. Afterward, when John Rolfe was alone again, he was very pleased with how well things had gone. He had the tools he needed to treat Pocahontas’s brother. Now he just had to get rum and musket balls before he would be ready to go back to her village. He headed straight to the storehouse and presented Bill Bates with the prescription at the door. The overseer was a large bulky man, but even he seemed to be losing weight. Without a word, Bates disappeared inside and shut the door. “Excuse me, sir!” Rolfe spoke, calling the man to come back in his direction. “In addition to the rum, I’ll need to inspect the storehouse.”

The overseer shook his head. “Rations are not available until sundown. You are going to have to wait your turn just like everyone else, young chap,” Bill Bates quickly returned.

John Rolfe knitted his brows in annoyance. “I’m not here for rations. I need to inspect the supplies. It is my business to solve the Jamestown food crisis. To do that, I’ll need to know what we have,” he politely explained. “You have my word, I shan’t touch a thing.”

Bill Bates peered at John Rolfe blankly for a moment. He moved past him and glanced around.  _ “You’re really here to help us?” _ he whispered to Rolfe, a worried glint in his eye.

John Rolfe raised a brow in response to the man’s odd behavior. “Yes, sir. That’s my duty. My name is John Rolfe. I come on the authority of the king to see to the welfare of this settlement and the restoration of peace between the settlers and Powhatans,” John Rolfe explained. “Again, I shall not take anything out of turn. I merely need to look.”

Bill Bates grabbed John Rolfe by the cloak and pulled him inside. “I’m not supposed to do this,” he revealed once they were alone, shutting the door. “Governor’s orders. He doesn’t want anyone to know just how low supplies are. Even at current rations, we won’t last halfway through the winter. Some fear we won’t make it until the spring without slaughtering all the cats, dogs, and horses in Jamestown! Swear to me you won’t tell the governor that I have accommodated your request!” he charged with great fervor.

Rolfe held up his hands in surrender. “I swear it! You have my word as a gentleman.”

Bill Bates appeared relieved. He showed Rolfe around the storehouse. The most plentiful items were grain and flour. But there were terrifying little of even those things, given the needs of the several hundred people that occupied the settlement. As John Rolfe peered around, he found no hint of the three hundred missing bushels of corn. Not so much as a golden kernel. “Can you keep another secret, sir?” Bates uttered to him, still paranoid.

“Certainly. What is it, chap?” John Rolfe inquired.

Bill Bates pulled him in close and whispered in his ear.  _ “The governor, his personal guards, and high-ranking officials never come here to get food. They must have a separate supply hidden away somewhere. If my suspicions are correct, it must be in the governor’s mansion. None of his guards’ families seem underfed like the rest! And if you ever sneak a glance at Governor West, the man’s belly is bloated out like a hog’s! They must be holding out on us, I say! I walked by his house a few hours after sunset and I swear I smelt the aroma of a feast! I put my ear to a blacked-out window and heard chattering and the clinkin’ of wine glasses! The governor and his pets are stuffing themselves with lavish meals while the rest of us common folk starve!” _ he charged.

John Rolfe placed his hand over Bates’s much beefier one and patted it. “Not to worry, my friend. I shall investigate forthwith. Again, you have my word as a gentleman.”

Bill Bates still looked very nervous. “I’ll pray for your success, milord. My dear wife and boy child depend on you!” The overseer turned around to retrieve something from a shelf and shoved a small keg of rum under Rolfe’s free arm. “There’s your rum. I’m afraid I must let you out the back so no one’ll see I let you in. You seem skinny enough.”

John Rolfe ended up getting squeezed through a small window. He landed in a mountain of powder. The ice-cold snow melted against the fabric of his pants, making him both wet and cold. He shivered and struggled to his feet as Bill Bates handed him his stuff through the window. He bade him farewell before closing the window and locking it.

John Rolfe struggled through freezing snow drifts until he found a shoveled path. He put his items down and dusted the snow off. Then Rolfe returned to the inn and dried off, dropping off the procured items in his bedroom. Once he was dry, he took his buckskin rucksack and headed back to the Quincys’ house. This time it was Rebeccah who opened the door. She saw the rucksack. “Is that the present you said you were going to bring us?”

“The present is in there, yes,” John Rolfe confirmed, entering as she moved out of his way. Mr. and Mrs. Quincy were at the table, drinking hot tea. “Hello again!” Rolfe merrily greeted as they rose to meet him. He glanced around the room and turned his attention to Rebeccah. “If you could close all the drapes, young lady,” he requested.

Rebeccah nodded and ran around the room, covering up all the windows. “What have you brought us, Lord Rolfe?” Mrs. Quincy inquired, looking curiously at the rucksack.

The diplomat plopped the pack on a chair and opened it, pulling out sacks of food and dropping them on the table. “Pocahontas packed this for me in case I wasn’t able to get food in Jamestown. I’m sure she’d want me to share with you three. As you can see, she provided quite a lot,” John Rolfe explained as the Quincys watched with starstruck eyes.

“Oh Mama, I’m so hungry!” Rebeccah cried. “Can we eat now? Oh please!” She turned to John Rolfe. “Thank you so much, Mister!” she exclaimed, embracing him.

Mrs. Quincy looked through everything, astonished at the sight of it all. “You are by far the most generous man I have ever met, Lord Rolfe. An absolute godsend! I will get to work on a tasty stew right away. Won’t you join us for lunch?” she pleasantly requested.

“Yes! We would love to have you, Lord Rolfe,” Mr. Quincy confirmed. “My wife is an excellent cook. Just wait. We have plenty of herbs and spices stashed away but nothing substantial save what you’ve brought us. This stew will be delicious. I can hardly wait.”

John Rolfe rubbed his chin, thinking. “That actually sounds lovely. I say, what time is it? I fear the hours must have gotten away from me,” he declared, glancing around.

“Just past midday,” Hannah Quincy said, gathering a few of the items he had brought. She carried them to the kitchen counter. “I’ll make a lovely stew with corn, beans, jerky, and hambone. It should be ready in one hour,” she declared, pulling out the cauldron.

“An hour?” John Rolfe thought aloud, placing a finger to his lips. He emptied half the rucksack onto the table and then tied it closed again. “In that case, I shall return. I need to run one more errand,” he announced, hefting the lighter rucksack onto his back.

Rebeccah’s mouth watered, wishing the hour would go by faster. “Good,” Mr. Quincy declared, rising slowly to show John Rolfe to the door. “We’ll see you back in an hour, Lord Rolfe. Try not to be late or you will keep poor Rebeccah waiting.”

“Certainly not,” Rolfe replied, tipping his hat to the family as he was let out. “With any luck, this task I have shouldn’t even take a whole hour. I’ll see you all again soon.”

…

It was the upbeat sound of drums calling the Powhatan people to the village meeting that got Pocahontas and Nakoma’s attention right after lunch. They put away their crafts and walked outside, finding the afternoon bright and sunny. “Today would not be a bad day for storytelling outside,” Pocahontas remarked, enjoying the milder weather. They strode to the village center together where warriors, women, and children alike were filtering into the communal longhouse. People were gathering quickly, filing from their homes to join the festivities. Once Pocahontas and Nakoma entered the longhouse, they found there were some dishes of basic foods being passed around like boiled corn-on-the-cob. It was not exactly a feast. Pocahontas was glad to have eaten beforehand. As the young woman walked through the crowd toward her father, face after face was stunned to behold her. It seemed everyone had expected her never to return from the London voyage.

Pocahontas waved and greeted the villagers as she passed. While she knew all the locals well, there were some she knew better than others. A few new faces were present that she did not recognize, likely visitors from other villages. Nakoma encircled the perimeter of the longhouse, using the chief’s entrance so that she could be near Pocahontas at the front with her father. The pregnant woman sat on the floor behind a crowd of little children, all seated around the central fire. Furs, sitting mats, and cushions were in place on benches and on the ground for comfort. Everyone who lived in the village was present.

When Pocahontas reached Powhatan, she hugged him. “Wingapo, Father. I am ready.”

Powhatan returned the embrace and smiled down at her when they drew back. He turned to the crowd and raised a hand high in the air to bring everyone to silence, not that there was much talk beyond stunned whispering anyway. “Cheskchamay!” he announced. “My daughter has finally returned from the white man’s land, against all our expectations, and she has quite a story to tell all of us. To those of you who have not heard, she returned to Werowocomoco last night not by ship but by dogsled from Mattica. Accompanying her was the white diplomat who crossed the saltwater with her to see the white chief. We have good reason to believe that this paleface will be able to restore peace and return the corn that was stolen from our storehouses. Now, please be seated, everyone.”

Once everyone was sitting, Chief Powhatan gestured for Pocahontas to take her place upon the heightened throne so she could begin her tale in view of everyone. The chief himself sat on a corner bench not far from his daughter, right next to Kekata. Like in Mattica, Pocahontas began her tale at the beginning by starting with the winter voyage and her time spent in London. During this retelling, however, Pocahontas went into much more detail. Rage showed on the faces of the warriors and chief when she revealed that she had initially been detained by King James after the bear incident. Disgust was the primary emotion in the room as Pocahontas described the torture of a helpless animal. She was careful to emphasize that not all Englishmen were in favor of such practices. John Rolfe, for instance, had protested quite fervently. The Powhatans really did not need any more reasons to dislike the settlers at the current time. Tensions were high enough.

The crowd was completely beguiled by the whole story surrounding the escape from the Tower of London and Pocahontas’s very unexpected meeting with John Smith. She glossed over the argument that had taken place between Rolfe and Smith that night, preferring to spend more time on the tale of their return to see King James. The village listened in admiration as she described what she had said to make the king change his mind about sending the armada with help from John Smith and Queen Ann as well. Then the story of the battle to stop the armada ensued. Pocahontas did make the village keenly aware of how that battle had decided the fate of the Powhatan Confederacy. The people cheered at the news of the former governor Ratcliffe’s capture and imprisonment.

Then came the tale of Pocahontas’s departure from London. The villagers appeared to understand why Pocahontas and John Smith had decided to go their separate ways at least initially. She had to come up with an excuse for the fact that Rolfe had come with her on the return voyage. Her explanation ended up being on account of Uttamatomakkin’s desire to stay in London a little longer. Pocahontas claimed that Rolfe had not wanted to send her off alone, the only female on a sea-bound ship, and without a protector. And thank the Great Spirit that he had tagged along, she told them, for her fate would have been grim without a competent bodyguard onboard the ship at the time the pirates attacked. Pocahontas could see the terror in Powhatan’s eyes as she explained the reason why her hair had been cut. It made her feel guilty for putting her father through such emotions, which would naturally be the absolute worst nightmare of any caring parent.

Powhatan’s terror piqued at the recounting of the brief battle several weeks later during which they had escaped the pirate ship. He seemed immensely relieved afterward until it became apparent that the pirates had decided to try to hunt them down. Pocahontas described the beauty of Florida with the most colorful words in her vocabulary. She put great passion into the description of the devastating forest fire during which she had nearly perished. The crowd was amazed by their deeds in capturing the pirate ship and freeing the young French maidens. Pocahontas could see on their faces the question of what had become of the girls and the ship. She initially tried to think of a way around telling them about Nicole’s assault, which had incapacitated John Rolfe and caused his concussion. But no other explanation that she thought of made any sense.  _ Better to beg forgiveness, _ Pocahontas thought as she went ahead and revealed the truth of the story anyway. She was sure to emphasize that he was hit from behind. But she did leave out what Nicole’s amorous motivation had been, summing it up to simple insanity.

The villagers were intrigued by Pocahontas’s description of their time in Comosamico with Siwili and his family. They were completely shocked when the pirates resurfaced so unexpectedly. The women, in particular, seemed annoyed with Nicole’s insistence on following them on their journey and were relieved when she finally decided to turn back.

Soon the tale reached the point where Pocahontas and John Rolfe had been on their own again without Siwili, only having Meeko, Percy, and Flit as company. Pocahontas had just gotten to the part about the Englishman’s fever when a high-pitched whinny came from outside. She bounced up with excitement. “John!” Pocahontas cried, thinking Rolfe had returned. She sped out the door with a few warriors and her father following. All she found was a riderless Snow Angel. The horse appeared distressed at the storm clouds’ approach. It was evening now. The day had gotten away from them as Pocahontas had recounted her tale to the village. “John Rolfe!” Pocahontas called out, looking for him.

He was nowhere to be seen and Pocahontas peered back to her father. “Why would he send his horse back like this?” Chief Powhatan inquired. “Did she bring a message?”

Pocahontas checked Snow Angel, finding nothing. “Father, I’m worried he might not have made it all the way to Jamestown. There’s a storm coming. We need to follow Snow Angel’s tracks before the snow covers them up!” she cried, whistling for Opileskiwan.

…

The overseer of the Jamestown armory had been a very stubborn and portly man that John Rolfe assumed to be among Governor West’s personal guards. There were plenty of small crates full of musket balls, but the man George Walker insisted that Rolfe had to be a soldier to receive any—that was until Rolfe informed Walker of his title. Without personal identification, the diplomat had to get Wiggins and a few other witnesses to vouch for him that he truly was the man he claimed to be. Only then did Mr. Walker agree to hand over ten crates of ammunition for Rolfe’s ‘recreational hunting pleasure.’ The Englishman found the ammunition crates, only a foot by a foot by three-quarters of a foot in dimension each, immensely heavy seeing as they were full of lead. The diplomat ordered them to be sent to the inn and stored in the lobby for the time being.

Thanks to George Walker’s shenanigans, John Rolfe was nearly late for lunch after all. He apologized to the Quincy family after explaining what had transpired as they all sat down to eat. They held hands for grace and then chowed down. Mrs. Quincy’s stew was absolutely delicious. Samuel had not been exaggerating when he had stated that his wife was an excellent cook. Rebeccah found the meal so good and so filling that she declared it felt like Christmas had come early. At that point, it occurred to John Rolfe to ask just how far away Christmas was. He had completely lost track of the months during the journey back to Virginia. “Christmas is only four days away,” Samuel Quincy revealed in response to the young gentleman’s inquiry. “Though I’m afraid the settlers will not feel much like celebrating this year if the usual feasting cannot accompany it.”

Rolfe frowned. “Nonsense. We ought to celebrate our Savior’s birth whether or not our stomachs are full. Imagine what the world would be like if Jesus Christ had never come! We can’t take his teachings for granted. I say we hold a celebration, even if it’s small.”

“Yay!” Rebeccah cheered, turning to Mrs. Quincy. “Oh Mama, can we? I don’t mind if there isn’t much to eat. I just want to celebrate our Lord Christ’s birth!” the girl pleaded.

Hannah Quincy had a thoughtful look. “I suppose we could. But what would we do for the celebration? Lord Rolfe, can you play the fiddle or any other instrument? It would be nice to sing carols. We should refrain from dancing to excess though since that would cause us all to work up an appetite,” Mrs. Quincy remarked, meeting eyes with Rolfe.

“Agreed. No, madam, I can’t play the fiddle. But that doesn’t mean we cannot find someone who can. The only instruments I know are the harp and, well…” John Rolfe indicated, pulling his ocarina out from under his shirt. He showed it to them. “I’m still rather learning how to play this thing. I received it from a dear friend upon our parting.”

Rebeccah was fascinated by the colorful item. She reached to touch it and John Rolfe allowed her to do so. “It’s so pretty. What is it?” she inquired, admiring the bright colors.

“It’s called an ocarina, a type of flute,” John Rolfe explained. “I don’t know if it can play Christmas tunes. I would have to practice. But, then again, Christmas is still several days off.” He brought the ocarina up to his lips and started to play a few simple notes.

“It sounds lovely!” Rebeccah extolled.

Mr. and Mrs. Quincy nodded in agreement. “I think that could make some very pretty Christmas music if you could figure out how to play it properly,” Samuel remarked. He snuck a glance at his wife. “My dear, haven’t we sheet music for Christmas carols hidden away somewhere?” He met eyes with the diplomat once again. “When we were still in England, we lived with a cousin who was very proficient at the fiddle. Unfortunately, he died while I was away. My wife brought his fiddle and music when she and Rebeccah came to live with me in Jamestown. But we haven’t anyone in the family who knows how to play it. It’s probably way out of tune anyway. If only we could make use of it.”

“Perhaps one of you should take up practice?” Rolfe suggested, eyeing the young girl in particular. “If you can find a teacher. There are many people in Jamestown. Surely there has to be someone who knows how to play the violin who is willing to teach the skill.”

Rebeccah had a thoughtful expression in response to the suggestion. Samuel Quincy ruffled his daughter’s hair a bit. “Not a bad idea at all. That would be one way to honor Cousin Pip’s memory, now wouldn’t it? Hm, Rebeccah? You’re a fast learner, besides.”

Rebeccah nodded but sighed. “I wish he was still here to teach me.”

Once the meal was over, there was more than enough stew left for dinner. John Rolfe told them that he would be in the Powhatan village so he would not be able to join them. The first place he headed was the stables as he would need a ride since Snow Angel had run off. He knocked on the broad stable doors when he arrived. “Hello? Stable master?”

“Coming, lad! I’m coming!” came the marked accent of an ill-tempered Scotsman. The doors opened to the sight of a beefy black-haired man with bristles on his chin. He looked the well-dressed gentleman up and down and seemed to sigh. “What can I do ye for?”

John Rolfe smiled and tipped his hat. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Beast. I’m here because I need to rent a horse. May I come in?” Rolfe inquired, taking a peek inside at the animals.

The stable master seemed surprised by John Rolfe’s good manners and his face lightened a bit. “Call me Ben,” Benjamin Beast returned, pushing the door aside for Rolfe to enter. “What is your name, my boy? I can’t help but feel like I’ve seen ye before.”

“John Rolfe,” the diplomat replied absent-mindedly as he stepped inside, peering around. There were four stalls on one side of the building with horses and four on the other. At the very end was the biggest stall, but it was empty. To John Rolfe’s left, at the front of the building, lay a cart in storage for the winter. To his right, a large and very elongated red sleigh. “Ah! Just what I need!” the cheerful diplomat announced, pointing to the sleigh. “I’ll need to rent that. I have some supplies I need to carry and that sleigh will do the job just perfectly,” John Rolfe expressed, walking over to examine the lovely sleigh.

The Scotsman raised a brow, realizing he was in a high-ranked official’s presence. “You mean Lord John Rolfe? From London?” he asked. “Where do ye intend on taking the sleigh, milord? The guards won’t open the gates for no man,” Ben warned, walking up beside Rolfe. “Although,” he considered, looking over the diplomat’s posh demeanor, “I suppose for a man of rank, exceptions might be made more easily than for others.”

Rolfe did not seem to hear Ben as he was distracted by something in the bed of the sleigh. He stepped up into the vehicle and knelt down, picking something off the dirty floor.

“What’ve you got there?” Ben queried, leaning forward.

Rolfe showed the stable master the kernels of golden corn he had in his hand. “Did you rent this sleigh to someone else recently?” he asked. “Or have these been here a while?”

Benjamin Beast appeared surprised at the sight of the corn. “The governor used it yesterday. He said he was going to the Injun village to negotiate for corn but came back empty-handed. I suppose I hadn’t had a chance to clean out the bed yet,” the Scotsman thought aloud, looking puzzled by the presence of the corn kernels. Suddenly he knitted his brows in anger. “I knew that man was a liar! He must be holdin’ out on us!” he cried, slamming a fist into an open palm. “I can’t stand men of Thomas West’s creed!”

John Rolfe nodded in agreement, a determined expression falling over his handsome features. “It looks like he certainly wasn’t quite as empty-handed as he claimed to be,” Rolfe replied, dropping the kernels on the ground. He brushed off his hands before hopping down from the sleigh. Then he slowly headed down the aisle between horse stalls, examining each stallion, mare, and gelding in turn. Their names were inscribed on copper plates attached to the stall doors.  _ Midnight, April Showers, Dusty, Lotus, Wind Breaker, Thunder, Shadow, Hercules and… Snow Angel. _ Rolfe gasped. “Snow Angel?!” the gentleman exclaimed, peeking into the large empty stall. There were little bundles of white hairs embedded under splinters in the wood along the inside lining.

“Aye,” Ben uttered, walking up beside Rolfe. He hung his bulky forearms over the side of the stall. “Snow Angel was the governor’s prized mare. Word is she got away from ‘im months back. Bless her heart. The governor had a mighty temper with the poor girl. If she got confused or failed to follow a command perfectly, he’d beat her with a long leather whip until the blood flowed. It was hard to watch, but I had no authority to make the man stop. I would’ve liked to sock ‘im in the eye for what he did to that beautiful animal!”

John Rolfe frowned. He had seen no scars on the mare, but that had to be on account of her long winter coat. No wonder she had fled at the sight of Jamestown.  _ “Poor thing,” _ Rolfe whispered to himself. “And there’s been no clue as to her whereabouts since?”

“The governor sent out hunting parties, but all came back empty-handed. Eventually, the search was abandoned when it was clear she wasn’t coming back,” Ben acknowledged.

John Rolfe knitted his brows, making a mental note to tell Pocahontas to keep the mare hidden should any settlers arrive. “Right,” Rolfe said, straightening up. “Moving on. I need this sleigh at the front of the inn. I have supplies I need to load onto it that are too heavy to carry all the way here.” He strutted back in the direction of the red sleigh.

“A’ight,” Ben replied, opening one of the stalls. It housed the tall black draft horse known as Midnight. Ben reached up and put a rope around the gelding’s neck, leading the gentle giant out of the stall. “Here, boy. That’s a good old horse,” he cooed as they approached the sleigh. “Midnight here ought to have the strength to pull along whatever you need.”

John Rolfe stepped aside, only slightly intimidated by the enormous animal. He watched as the stable master hooked him up to the sleigh. Rolfe pushed the doors wide open for them as the Scotsman led horse and sleigh out of the stable. He also closed the big doors behind them. “Lead the way, Lord Rolfe,” Benjamin Beast quickly announced.

“Since you let me call you Ben, I suppose you can call me John,” he replied, flashing the man a grin. “I plan on sticking around Virginia for a bit so we should become familiar.”

Ben looked surprised as he followed Rolfe. “Are you sure? I mean… we aren’t exactly of the same rank, you and I. I’ve never been on a first name basis with a man of your…”

“Yes, yes, it’s perfectly fine,” John Rolfe interrupted. “Think not of rank, my friend, for this is Virginia. Besides, are we not all of equal rank in the eyes of God Almighty?”

Ben appeared skeptical at first, but he slowly smiled. “Aye! That we are, John.”

When they arrived at the inn, John Rolfe was pleased to find the crates of musket balls had been delivered and were waiting for him in the lobby. Wiggins was there to help, but he was not too adept at lifting heavy items. Ben, in contrast, was strong as an ox. They helped each other load the supplies onto the sleigh, including Rolfe’s rucksack, the keg of rum, and the physician’s briefcase. Then they covered the supplies with a burlap flap.

John Rolfe took the reins and went to the governor’s mansion. Two men stood guard before the portico. They looked at him oddly as he rode the sleigh up and stopped in front of them. Rolfe hopped out and threw his cloak across his chest regally. “Greetings, my good men. My name is John Rolfe. I’m here to speak with the governor. We’ve important business to discuss if you please,” he confidently announced. “Go notify him at once.”

The guards peered at each other with cocked brows and turned back to Rolfe. “The governor says he’s not to be disturbed today for any reason short of a savage ambush. Sorry, sir,” the taller one replied, looking regretful. “Try again tomorrow. His mood varies from day to day. Sometimes he’ll take guests and sometimes he won’t.”

John Rolfe responded to the refusal with a perplexed look. “This situation isn’t optional, my friend. I must see Baron West right away. It’s most urgent. Pray do tell him a man’s life depends upon me seeing him straight away,” the gentleman returned, insistent.

The taller guard glanced at the shorter one and gulped nervously. “I’ll tell him, sir. But I can’t guarantee you’ll get the response you’re hoping for,” he said, turning to go inside.

“Thank you,” John Rolfe replied, seemingly satisfied. The guard disappeared.

He returned less than a minute later. “I’m sorry, sir, but the governor has refused.”

John Rolfe drew his brows together. “Oh, has he? Hm,” he uttered, thinking to himself, “I’ll tell you what. I suppose it isn’t absolutely critical that I see him in person today. All I really need from him right now is a permission slip to go through the front gates if you please. There’s an injured man who cannot be moved outside the settlement and I must get to him with some medical supplies. Do you think you could just ask the governor to write the permission slip real quick? Tell him I promise not to bother him again today after that,” the English gentleman explained, flashing them a friendly grin.

The tall guard’s forehead started beading with sweat. “Alright, Lord Rolfe. I’ll ask him that one last thing. But I’m telling you the governor is ill-tempered today. I’d try not to get your hopes up,” the man warned, heading back inside with a nervous expression.

“Thank you!” John Rolfe called after him.

Seconds later, the guard returned looking like he had seen a ghost. “The g-governor says no man is to leave the settlement for any reason. And he says he doesn’t care who you are, if you bother him again he’ll make you regret it,” the man revealed. Rolfe looked appalled and he felt a flare of anger. He breathed in sharply and stepped forward, intent on barging in to see the governor whether the man liked it or not. The guards immediately crisscrossed their lances, blocking his path. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t let you do that!”

“Don’t you men care about the greater good?! What will God think? To let an injured man suffer and die to appease an ill-tempered baron is cowardice!” John Rolfe raged.

The shorter man finally spoke, “Don’t make us arrest you, Lord Rolfe.”

“We are sorry!” chimed the taller one, appearing truly repentant. “But these are desperate times and both our families depend on us keepin’ up a good rapport with the governor!”

_ “One wrong move and we could end up like the Quincys,” _ the shorter guard whispered.

Upon hearing the guards’ threat of arrest, John Rolfe held back the flare of anger until it became a smoldering tight spot in the center of his chest. If he was sitting in jail, the diplomat would be of no use to Pocahontas’s family. But neither would he be of help while trapped in the fortress. He needed time to think up a solution and flashed both guards a final glare. “Judgment Day will come,” he warned them, hopping back onto the sleigh. He stood tall as he faced them down. “I hope both of you men will be prepared when it does.” Then Rolfe grabbed the reins and rode off toward the inn again.

John Rolfe brought everything but the musket balls inside. He returned the horse and sleigh to the stable, asking Benjamin Beast to keep an eye on the ammunition for him. Then Rolfe went back to his sleeping chamber and chucked a pillow across the room in ire. “Curse it! I’m already late. Pocahontas and Chief Powhatan will be expecting me. What can I do?” John Rolfe peered at the medical bag and then at the keg. “Hm.” The young Englishman reached over the bed and rang the little bell for room service. Less than a minute later, Wiggins, the innkeeper, popped his head into the room.

“You rang, sir?”

“Mr. Wiggins,” John Rolfe sharply greeted, “I need an empty bottle or jug with a cork.”

Wiggins smiled. “Right away!” The innkeeper vanished for a minute and then reappeared with exactly what John Rolfe had ordered. “Anything else I can do for you, milord?”

John Rolfe took the item and shook his head. “Not just yet. I’ll call if I need anything else. Thank you, Mr. Wiggins! You’ve been an immense help, I must say,” he remarked.

Wiggins nodded and disappeared again. The clever diplomat cleared his desk and placed the bottle on top, removing the cork. He popped the cork from the keg as well and gingerly poured the rum into the bottle, filling it to the top. Then he plugged both containers up again. Once he was done with that, he opened the medical briefcase and inserted the bottle of rum. There was, fortunately, enough room inside as the other instruments were small. He closed the briefcase up again and glanced out the window. It was getting late in the evening and he would have a hard time finding his way to Werowocomoco without a horse, let alone with those dark ominous clouds rolling in.

“Damn,” Rolfe muttered, glancing at the briefcase. “I’ve got to get this to Pocahontas somehow. Oh, but Kekata will need instructions!” Another idea sparked in his mind and he sat down to write a letter addressed to Pocahontas. However, when he was finished with it, he was again at a loss for what to do. How could he hope to send the letter back to the tribe, let alone the medical supplies? If he tried to jump the wall and run, he would not make it to the village through the snow. Plus, he could end up in jail if caught.

…

Powhatan helped Pocahontas down off of Opileskiwan’s back and slid down himself once they arrived at the edge of the woods overlooking the settlement. The chief had instructed the warriors on dogsleds to follow. They had pursued Snow Angel’s tracks until they came to a place where it appeared Rolfe had fallen off the horse. Human tracks led from there all the way down to the settlement. “Oh, thank goodness!” Pocahontas proclaimed. “He made it there safely after all. Snow Angel probably just got spooked and ran off.”

“Well, where is he?” Chief Powhatan charged. “He should’ve returned by now.”

Pocahontas thought for a minute. “We can’t go to the gate and ask for him?”

Powhatan shook his head. “We cannot go anywhere near the walls without the guards firing at us. That is how hostile Jamestown has become to our people lately.”

Pocahontas peered up worriedly at the clouds as it started to snow lightly at first. Suddenly, she heard a growl and something ran into her leg, followed by another thing. Meeko and Percy were at it again. The raccoon was holding a nut the pug dog wanted. “Hey, you two! Stop that! Meeko, if you…” She paused, peering down at Meeko. The wind started to pick up, blowing Flit by Pocahontas. She caught him in midair. “Flit, you can’t fly in this weather,” she said, putting him under her coat. Then she eyed Meeko again. “But Meeko, you can hop over the snow and climb over the fortress wall! Can you go and check on John for us? I just want to know that he is okay!” she expressed, fearful that something might have happened to the Englishman. Maybe his own people had turned on him. Who knew? Desperate people could do crazy irrational things.

Meeko nodded and gave a salute. Then he ran off toward the settlement. “What exactly is he supposed to accomplish, Pocahontas? He’s just a raccoon,” the chief pointed out.

One warrior dismounted his dogsled and approached. “Chief, she just doesn’t want to admit the white man has likely betrayed us! We are as good as on our own at this point!”

Pocahontas scowled. “John would never betray us!”

“He is one of them! I bet we never hear from him again unless it’s at the point of a fire stick!” he charged, more out of despair than rage. Though he certainly was angry.

Pocahontas ground her teeth in aggravation. “I told you all he did for our people! Weren’t you listening? Why are you so quick to condemn him when you don’t even know him?!”

“I don’t know what his true motives were for doing those things, but somehow I doubt it had anything to do with true honor and ethics! The white men, they always hide things! I do not trust them, I tell you. And you would be a fool to trust them yourself!”

“That’s enough, Tencheke!” Powhatan ordained. “I advise you to withhold your judgment of the paleface for at least a few days. Anything could have happened to him—or perhaps the long to-do list we gave him is simply taking longer than we had anticipated.”

The warrior huffed and returned to his dogsled. Pocahontas peered out over the vast expanse of white snow. Meeko had almost reached the fortress and, fortunately, had not been spotted or shot at. She watched as he scaled the walls and disappeared over the other side. “Let’s just wait for Meeko to get back. I just want to know that John Rolfe is okay.”

“Well, he had better hurry,” Powhatan replied. “The storm is picking up speed.”

…

As soon as Meeko made it into Jamestown, he began sniffing around. The snow was threatening to cover up tracks so he had to find John Rolfe fast. He peeked in one window where a family was sitting down to a meager dinner. No sign of Rolfe. The raccoon peeked in another window. A similar scene played out. He kept going from window to window until he came to the inn. Meeko spotted Rolfe sitting at a desk with his head down as if he had a headache or was very upset. The animal grinned and scratched the glass, causing Rolfe to bolt up from his seat and nearly knock over the desk. The discombobulated Englishman peered at the window and then immediately smiled in relief, rushing over. He yanked up the pane. “Oh, Meeko! Thank goodness you’re here! They won’t let me out of the settlement. I’m being kept prisoner here! I say. I need you to deliver something to Pocahontas and Chief Powhatan. It’s very important! Think you can do this for me?” the diplomat hurriedly inquired with quite a flustered look on his face.

Meeko nodded as he crawled inside, sniffing around. “Oh, yes,” Rolfe thought aloud. “I better give you a reward.” He shuffled around in his rucksack and offered Meeko some fish jerky, which the raccoon promptly gobbled up. He showed the animal the briefcase. “Think you can carry this? All I ask in return for the fish is that you bring this straight to the Powhatans. Oh!” he uttered, stuffing in the letter. He latched the briefcase closed and offered it to Meeko, who took it in his mouth by the handle and gave a salute.

“Right-O then,” John Rolfe said, letting Meeko out the window. A gust of ice-cold wind blew into the room and Rolfe shivered. “Best hurry, Meeko! The storm is picking up!” Meeko cooed at him and then fearlessly ran off through the thickening flurries of snow.


	3. Hear Ye, Hear Ye

The settlement was obscured from view by a massive veil of white. “Pocahontas, we must leave now. It’s dangerous for anyone to be outside in weather like this,” Chief Powhatan decreed, “even strong warriors.” He picked his daughter up by the waist and sat her on the horse’s saddle as a fierce gust blew, holding her in place.

Pocahontas shielded her face from the wind until it died down. “But Father,” she said as the chief mounted the horse behind her, “Meeko is out there. Can’t we just wait a little…”

“No!” Powhatan replied. “It is much too dangerous. Meeko will be fine. He is an animal and I’m sure he can seek shelter in Jamestown or elsewhere if necessary.”

Just then the aforementioned raccoon hopped up on Opileskiwan’s shoulder blade with a large black thing dangling from his mouth. He dropped it in Pocahontas’s lap and cooed at her. “Meeko!” Pocahontas cried, hugging the animal to her chest. The chief smiled in relief as she tried to examine the medical tote. “It’s some kind of bag,” she observed.

“Wait until we get home to open it,” Powhatan decreed, taking the reins. Pocahontas held on tight to the bag. “We need to get out of here before this storm gets any worse.”

Chief Powhatan called to the warriors to turn their sleds around. Then he started back in the direction of home. Once they were back in the family longhouse, Pocahontas, Chief Powhatan, and a crowd of relatives and warriors gathered around the fire to examine the bag. Pocahontas deposited it on the ground and opened it. The first two things she pulled out were the letter and the bottle of rum. She set the rum aside and opened the envelope.

“What does it say?” Powhatan inquired as she examined it. Pocahontas was the only literate member of the tribe. While several others could speak and understand English, the Powhatan princess had gone a step further by learning how to read and write as well.

A smile flashed on her face as curious whisperings were heard around the room. “It’s a letter from John!” she declared, holding the parchment up to the fire. She started to read, stopping after each sentence to translate for those who did not know English.

_ Dear Pocahontas and the Powhatan people, _

_ The situation in Jamestown is much different than we had thought. I’m writing this letter rather than talking to you in person because the governor has forbidden anyone to leave the settlement. I’m essentially being kept prisoner here by my own and the governor has refused to see me face-to-face thus far. I’ve even been threatened with arrest should I continue to pester him for a meeting. It seems he is just as ornery as everyone has told me. I’ll start with the good news. I have seen the doctor in Jamestown and obtained the medical tools contained in this bag for Kekata’s use in treating Keme’s injury. Detailed and illustrated instructions are included at the end of this letter. Once the operation is complete, send the tools and medical bag back as I have promised to return them. _

Pocahontas promptly stopped reading and shuffled through the pages until she found the instructions that the letter spoke of. “Father, I need to take this to Kekata right away! We have everything we need here to remove the musket ball in Keme’s leg,” she exclaimed.

“We will have to wait until the storm passes, Pocahontas,” Chief Powhatan replied. “It is too hazardous to go out right now. Keep reading. I want to hear what else he has to say.”

Pocahontas looked disappointed, but she nodded and turned back to the letter.

_ I went to see the Quincy family earlier and I must report that their situation is bad but still salvageable. Last spring, it seems that Samuel Quincy disobeyed Governor West’s orders to plant tobacco in place of food. He tried to heed your father’s wise advice by planting maize in one of the fields outside of the settlement. When he was found out, the tender shoots were torn up and replaced with tobacco seeds and Mr. Quincy himself was punished with hard labor. The governor has developed a grudge against him and has further punished the whole family by putting them on stricter rations than everyone else in Jamestown. Mrs. Quincy and Rebeccah are both looking frightfully thin and I’m afraid Samuel himself is on the verge of emaciation. He trembles like a leaf nonstop. _

Pocahontas gasped in fright at the news and glanced at her father and the others. All looked very worried. “He better have shared the food you packed with them,” Powhatan thought aloud. Pocahontas turned her attention back to the letter and continued reading.

_ Not to worry though. I have given them half of the food that you packed for me so they should be alright for now. Again, Pocahontas, your instincts proved correct. We had a lovely lunch together today. I questioned them about the situation in Jamestown and learned a lot from them. Most of the settlers know nothing of the stolen crop. I examined the Jamestown storehouse myself. Supplies are very low indeed and the maize was not there. I believe it is being hoarded in the governor’s mansion, but alas I have no proof. Short of breaking in, I admit I am currently at a loss for how to proceed at this point. _

Pocahontas paused, thinking. “Hm, I might have an idea,” she mused, glancing over to Meeko and Flit curled up in Meeko’s sleeping basket.  _ I’ll bet those two are small and clever enough to help with this, _ she thought. She went back to reading John Rolfe’s letter.

_ I further suspect that there is a lot more food in the governor’s mansion than just maize. With any luck, this may turn out to be the solution to our food problems. I might need to oust a gluttonous governor from power to restore peace between our people, but first I will need proof that he is holding out on everyone except those in his closest circle. I am sure I will think of something. On another order of business, I have obtained the musket balls your father ordered. The only problem is that I’ve no way to get them to your people since I can’t leave the settlement. But rest assured, Chief Powhatan will soon have his ammunition and then I will be able to teach the local warriors how to shoot. _

Pocahontas glanced up at her father. “Well that’s good news,” she said. The chief nodded.

_ Lastly, I’ve discovered the origins of Snow Angel. She used to belong to Governor West. However, he treated her quite cruelly and she ran away. If any soldiers come to the village again, I beseech you to hide Snow Angel. If she is discovered, they will most likely take her by force. Thomas West is a man of no empathy for he used to beat her with a long leather whip until the blood flowed. This is what the stable master Benjamin Beast told me. So please keep her hidden as best you can. I will keep Keme in my prayers tonight. Like last time I was here, I will be staying at the Mother Wiggins Inn. Please do write back and let me know how things go with the operation as soon as possible. _

_ Yours truly, _

_ John Rolfe _

“That’s the end of the letter,” Pocahontas said, turning the pages to make sure there was nothing else. “Father, I’m worried about John and the Quincys,” she expressed, turning to Powhatan. “Depending upon how long he’s trapped there, he might run out of food.”

Powhatan nodded his head in understanding. “Fortunately, you have a furry friend who can act as a messenger for us. We’ll just have to keep in close contact with this man to make sure that does not happen,” he expressed, gesturing to the snoozing raccoon.

…

**DECEMBER 22, 1613**

John Rolfe awoke bright and early the next morning to the sound of scratching. He sat up, hair ruffled from a good night’s rest, and peered over at the window. Meeko was scraping away the thin layer of ice and snow that covered the outside of the glass. “Meeko!” the Englishman proclaimed, hopping out of bed in his nightshirt. Rolfe yanked the window open, which took a good bit of effort due to the ice. Some snow fell onto the floor as Meeko rolled into the room bearing the same medical tote that Rolfe had given him to take to the Powhatans. The raccoon hopped up on the chair and deposited the bag on the desktop. “Ah! Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Rolfe announced, opening the bag.

The rum bottle was empty and accompanied by a letter. Rolfe opened the letter and read.

_ Dear John, _

_ Kekata successfully removed the bullet from Keme’s leg. Thank you for providing such detailed instructions. Our medicine man says the drawings really helped. Once we have the situation with the governor dealt with, you can borrow the doctor’s tools again so we can travel to the other village to treat Namontack’s condition. As for the governor, I think I’ve got a plan. I am going to send Meeko and Flit to you after dark. You can help them find a way into the governor’s mansion so they can snoop around for food. Meeko is good at sniffing out anything that is even remotely edible, so he should be a great help. They’ll bring you the evidence that you need to prove Governor West is up to no good. As for the Quincys, thank you for helping them! Your letter got me very worried. I just hope that Samuel doesn’t get sick in his condition. If absolutely necessary, I can use Meeko to send you more food. Hopefully, he can refrain from eating it all before the delivery. Please continue to keep me and my people posted on what’s going on in Jamestown. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Pocahontas _

John Rolfe glanced over at Meeko as the raccoon licked the snow out of his fur. “You think you can sneak into the governor’s mansion? I will go scout the place out today to see if I can find any possible points of entry. Pocahontas is brilliant. I should’ve thought of this,” he said, almost to himself. “On that note, it’s time I went to talk to the governor again. If he admits me today, maybe I can unlock a window while he isn’t looking.”

The Englishman sped through his usual morning ritual, shaving, meticulously cleaning his teeth, and getting dressed all within the span of thirty minutes. By the time he was out the door, he realized a fresh layer of snow had fallen and the settlers were out shoveling once again. John Rolfe would either have to wait for them to reach the inn or he would have to go back and put on his furry snow pants so he could wade through the snow to get where he wanted to go. As he was impatient, he decided on the latter. He returned to his room and put on the snow pants, realizing they looked silly with his outfit.  _ Oh, well, _ John Rolfe thought.  _ It’s more about function than fashion anyways. _

John Rolfe left the inn, struggling through the snow to get to a shoveled path. He ignored the shovelers who were staring at him and proceeded to the governor’s mansion. A different pair of guards were out front on the portico this time and they looked at him like he was a purple polka-dotted elephant when he arrived. The one on the left was black-haired and thin, whereas the one on the right was a dirty blond and much beefier. Both were about the same in height.“Hello, my good men,” the diplomat greeted. “Please send word to the governor that I must speak with him at once if you please.”

“The governor does not want to be disturbed today,” replied the black-haired guard.

John Rolfe gaped. “Again? Listen to me! That man has responsibilities that he cannot continue to ignore. One of them is to speak with me about an order from King James.”

The guards peered at each other with dread in their eyes and turned back to John Rolfe, reluctantly nodding. “I’ll tell him, sir,” the black-haired guard conceded, heading in.

John Rolfe smiled. “Thank you, my friend.”

The dark-haired guard disappeared inside for a minute. He came back out and took his station again. “I’m sorry, sir, but the governor refuses. Unfortunately, he instructed that I am to arrest you if you do not leave immediately,” the guard woefully reported.

John Rolfe’s mouth dropped open again.  _ “How can he just…” _ the young man uttered to himself in a shrill voice filled with frustration and outrage. Rolfe shook his head clear and examined the premises.  _ Right. If I cannot get in myself, then I will have to find another way in for Meeko and Flit, _ he thought to himself. Then John Rolfe noticed the doggie flap on the front door and he cocked his head, suppressing a grin. “Right,” he spoke aloud to the guards. “In that case, I’ll just be on my way. Sorry to bother you, gentlemen. But before I go, pray tell does the governor happen to own a dog?” he inquired.

The two men appeared perturbed by the unexpected inquiry and they exchanged puzzled looks again. “He’s got a big fat spoiled cat,” the dirty blond suddenly divulged.

_ “Shh!” _ the black-haired guard hushed him.  _ “Governor West might hear you say that!” _

_ “Oh, right,” _ the blond whispered, biting his lip. His eyes darted around in fear and then he turned his attention back to John Rolfe, clearing his throat. “Why do you ask, sir?”

Rolfe raised his brows. “Mm? Oh, I’ve realized I may have offended our dear governor with my pesky behavior yesterday. I thought perhaps I could repair any negative feelings by finding something for the two of us to relate over. You see, I’m quite fond of animals. Cats and dogs especially,” he explained, chuckling. “Even the big fat spoiled ones!”

The blond cocked a brow. “How diplomatic of you,” he remarked. “Governor West’s cat’s name is Mr. Fluff. He stays inside in the winter and roams in the warm season.”

“Ah, I see,” John Rolfe returned. “Well, I hope someday I’ll have the privilege of meeting Mr. Fluff and his owner. Good day to you, gentlemen,” he expressed, tipping his hat.

The devious diplomat was about to turn and leave when he suddenly heard a child’s voice calling to him. “Lord John Rolfe! Help, Lord Rolfe!” cried Rebeccah Quincy as she came running up to him. “Oh, thank goodness that you are here, sir!” she exclaimed as she grabbed his hand, pulling him along. “The innkeeper said you might be at the governor’s mansion. Come quick! The soldiers are harassing my father! They’re being very mean and refusing to acknowledge the permission slip that you signed for him!”

John Rolfe knitted his brows. This was just not turning out to be his day. “Oh, are they? We’ll see about that!” Rolfe snapped, stomping through the snow after Rebeccah.

When they arrived at the cottage, two low-ranked soldiers stood outside with Mr. and Mrs. Quincy. Rolfe stopped where he was and cleared his throat loud enough to be heard by all. The soldiers turned to him. “Might I ask what the problem is here?” he queried.

They exchanged glances. The younger guard with a missing front tooth and hooked nose stepped forward. “Are you the so-called ‘Lord Rolfe’?” he asked, eyeing the man. His accomplice was a comelier fellow but much older, appearing to be just past middle age.

“I am,” John Rolfe confirmed.

The older soldier stepped forward too and pointed back to Mr. Quincy. “This man is refusing to do his fair share of work. He says you’ve given him time off,” he charged.

“I have. Didn’t he show you the permission slip with my signature?”

Both men peered at each other again. “Yeah, but we can’t read,” the homely one admitted. He got jabbed in the side by his older peer’s elbow and shushed.

“I thought it was a trick,” admitted the elder.

John Rolfe rolled his eyes and slapped his forehead. “No, sirs. It’s not a trick.”

“Ah…” replied the young soldier, starting to feel self-conscious about their actions in front of the recently-arrived Jamestown official. “Well… uh. For the record, sir, Oliver here’s the one who done tore up your parchment,” he blurted, pointing an accusing thumb at his elder. The guard by the name of Oliver Ward glared at his younger peer for a moment as John Rolfe peered down at the snow behind them, taking note of the torn pieces of his signed permission slip for the Quincys. He knitted his brows in irritation.

Oliver scowled. “Button it! It was your idea to come here in the first place, Elliot!”

“It wasn’t my idea!” Elliot charged back. “Captain Glum told me to!”

“Your captain of the guard didn’t know that Mr. Quincy had a permission slip to stay at home!” John Rolfe admonished them. “The moment you saw it, you should’ve marched right back to him to tell him to check Mr. Quincy off the list for the next three days.”

“But there’s snow needin’ to be shoveled!” Elliot protested. “We need all men to help.”

John Rolfe raised a brow in mock concern. “Oh, is that all?” he returned, observing that Elliot was holding an extra snow shovel. The diplomat stepped forward and unbuttoned his cloak, handing it to Mrs. Quincy. “If you’d kindly hang that up for me, madam.” He grabbed the snow shovel. “Very well, I shall assist. Now, leave this man and his family alone. They are in no condition to be engaging in any physical labor,” he decreed.

The Quincys gaped at John Rolfe. “You… would take my husband’s place?” Hannah Quincy murmured, shocked that a man of rank would do such a thing for a commoner.

“Certainly,” John Rolfe returned. He turned his attention back to the soldiers. “Now, run along and see to your own duties!” he charged, shooing them off. The guards looked at him like he had grown a second head and left. Rolfe got to work hurriedly shoveling a path to the Quincys’ home, seeing as everyone was standing in deep snow drifts.

“Have you had breakfast, Lord Rolfe?” Mrs. Quincy inquired, eager to assist him.

John Rolfe rested the tip of the shovel in the snow and leaned on the handle. “Actually, no. I was rather in a hurry to see the governor this morning and it slipped my mind.”

“Come inside, you must sit down to a hot breakfast with us,” Samuel offered, beckoning them inside the home. “We were just about to eat when those crude soldiers knocked.”

John Rolfe shrugged and leaned the shovel against the house. “I suppose I can eat with you quickly. There’s a lot of snow to be shoveled so I’d prefer not to take a long leisurely breakfast today. I do have some good news I’d like to share with you though. Let us go in,” he indicated. Mrs. Quincy had made hot corn porridge for breakfast with dried fruits and nuts on top. It was delicious. As they ate, Rolfe related how he had found a way to communicate with the outside world by raccoon messenger. He also told them Keme’s operation had been a success and they prayed together for the man’s speedy recovery.

As soon as the meal was done, John Rolfe got back to work shoveling the snow outside. Mrs. Quincy attended to him, asking him if he needed a drink every twenty minutes or so.

…

When Pocahontas had expressed a wish to her father to go visit Grandmother Willow, he had insisted that she bring along a strong warrior by the name of Naganwaya as a bodyguard in case any hostile palefaces showed up. Naganwaya was the village’s new most accomplished warrior, having proven himself in a tussle with an enemy tribe in the summer heat. Chief Powhatan did not want his daughter to leave the village by herself until peace had been reestablished with the settlers. While Pocahontas was ever so slightly annoyed by the forced company, she soon found out that Naganwaya was a fairly engaging conversationalist. He had many interesting things to say as he told her about all the things that had transpired in the Powhatan Nation since her departure.

When Naganwaya was done talking about the home front, he turned the topic of the conversation to Pocahontas’s travels. “So tell me, Pocahontas. Chief Powhatan says you were restless in your adolescent years, always pining to discover new things and new adventures. After all those exploits you spoke of, do you feel ready to settle down?”

Pocahontas almost laughed. “Oh, you have no idea. I couldn’t be happier just to be home after all that. Once this business with Jamestown is complete, I’m just going to settle in and help Nakoma raise her child. To think, all these years I’ve taken the small things for granted. Sewing, cooking, basket-making, I can’t wait to get back to ordinary life.”

Naganwaya’s face lit up. “Why, Pocahontas! That is wonderful news. I couldn’t be happier for you,” the young warrior exclaimed, a little more enthusiastic than Pocahontas was expecting him to be on her behalf. The Powhatan princess just shrugged and smiled. “As for your friend’s good fortune, have you thought of becoming a mother yourself?” he asked quite unexpectedly, immediately taking Pocahontas by surprise.

She froze and cleared her throat. “Well, um, I mean, er… It’s crossed my mind. Oh hey! Look, we’re here!” she declared, gesturing to the snow-covered tree that towered over the horizon before them. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Mind staying here while I talk to her? I need a little privacy if you don’t mind. I have a lot of things to get off my chest.”

“Certainly,” Naganwaya replied, stationing himself by a small birch tree. “If any trouble arises or you need anything at all, just call my name and I will be there in an instant.”

“Thank you!” she returned, flashing him a smile. “This might take a while.” She turned away from him and approached the grand tree. When she arrived, she pushed her way through drooping leaves and walked right up to Grandmother Willow’s gnarled roots.

A gust of leafy wind blew, rustling the branches. “Is that my Pocahontas?” came the ancient one's maternal voice. Pocahontas detected a hint of excitement in the tree’s tone.

“Yes, it is!” Pocahontas replied without hesitation, hugging one of Grandmother Willow’s thick roots. “Grandmother Willow, I’ve missed you so much!” she cried, hopping up on the root. Pocahontas climbed up toward the stump where she usually sat as she spoke to Grandmother Willow. It was covered with snow, but the old tree used her many branches to brush it off and make a nice flat place for the young woman to sit.

A wrinkled face appeared in the bark. “Child, what a relief it is to see you again! I knew in my heart you were alive and coming home, even when John Smith stopped by.”

Pocahontas sucked in a breath as she sat on the stump. “John Smith came to see you?”

The tree nodded. “Oh yes, he felt he needed my guidance before going off to search for you. He had no idea where to begin. I told him to follow the wind and he would find you. I suspect he will be back here by next fall at the latest, blown in on a nice balmy breeze.”

“Wow!” Pocahontas lauded. She simpered. “I feel guilty he had to go through so much for my sake. I do hope he will get the letter informing him of my survival soon.”

Grandmother Willow gave her a knowing smile, a twinkle in her eye. “Speaking of John Smith, the spirits have been whispering amongst themselves that your heart now belongs to another. Is this true?” she inquired. Her tone did not sound critical but rather curious as if she could not wait to learn the details of the Powhatan princess’s newest courtship.

Pocahontas’s face flushed slightly. “I-I… Well, yes, it…”

“What’s he like and when do I get to meet him?” Grandmother Willow blurted.

Pocahontas was shocked by the speediness of the request. “Oh, well… He’s trapped in Jamestown right now. I’m not sure when he’ll be able to… Wait, what am I saying? I do want him to meet you, Grandmother Willow, but I want to make sure he is prepared.”

Grandmother Willow raised a brow. “That’s rather interesting. You did not prepare John Smith before you brought him to meet me as I recall,” she noted, remembering the event.

“John Smith is a completely different person,” Pocahontas quickly pointed out.

“True,” Grandmother Willow conceded. “Well, what’s this new man’s name at least?”

Pocahontas raised a brow, surprised she had not mentioned it. “Oh, John Rolfe. He is the man who brought me to England in the first place. He had intended to bring my father.”

“Oh? And how do you think John Rolfe would react differently to seeing an old tree spirit like me than John Smith did all those years ago?” Grandmother Willow asked.

Pocahontas was a little at a loss for words as she ran her fingers through her short hair. “Well, John Rolfe is more…” she began, “I want to say ‘impressionable,’ but I’m unsure if that’s the right word. He… I guess it’s just that I don’t want to frighten him away. In John Smith’s case, well, I sensed that he would be less impressionable somehow.”

“I’m not trying to second guess your decision, child,” the willow tree indicated. “I’m just genuinely curious about what this new man is like. So you say he is impressionable?”

“Yes,” Pocahontas admitted.

“If you are concerned about frightening him away,” Grandmother Willow said, “then you must be attached to him. Him leaving you is a very painful thought to bear, is it not?”

Pocahontas nodded. “Yes, I can’t imagine myself marrying anyone else. I want to spend the rest of my life with him,” she disclosed, folding a hand against her chest.

Grandmother Willow appeared stunned. “So the topic of marriage has come up?”

“Yes, of course,” Pocahontas replied. “He plans to ask Father for my hand.”

Grandmother Willow almost chuckled at her own silliness. “I must admit, I’m rather surprised to hear things have advanced this far between you and him during your absence. You sound like you’re genuinely ready to settle down and start a family. I always wondered when this day would come and believe me, child, I couldn’t be more proud. You’ve been on a whirlwind with this man and it seems you have come out of it much more sure of yourself and what you want in life.” Pocahontas beamed with pride at what Grandmother Willow had said to her. “When does John Rolfe plan to approach your father to ask him for your hand in marriage?” the old tree ventured to ask.

“Oh,” Pocahontas uttered, caught off-guard. “We plan to put that off until after peace has been established again. We want to give Father time to get to know John first,” she said, though she looked unsure of herself. “Do you... think that would be a good idea?”

Grandmother Willow had a thoughtful expression on her face. “It’s hard to say. I haven’t seen the chief in a long time. I would have to be able to assess his mood in person before I could give you a definitive answer. I hope he doesn’t become angry with you for not telling him initially when you finally do decide to spill the beans,” the old tree mused.

Pocahontas frowned in worry. “I realize John Rolfe isn’t the type of man that my father always wanted to marry me off to. He’s always imagined I would marry a strong warrior but I don’t think that is the right path for me,” she expressed, wringing her fingers a little.

“I think,” Grandmother Willow began, “ultimately, it comes down to whether or not you’ve made up your mind. If your father cannot sway you from your chosen path, he’ll have no choice but to accept it. If he respected you enough to send you on the journey to London, then I think it is highly likely he will respect you enough to let you choose your own husband. He did tell you once that you must choose your own path, after all.”

A ray of hope shined in Pocahontas’s eyes. “Really?”

Grandmother Willow nodded. “That is most certain. But do me a favor and do not keep the secret from him for too long. I trust your judgment on that, child. Make me proud.”

Pocahontas bobbed her head. “I will.”

“So what does he look like?” Grandmother Willow inquired, an impish glint in her eye.

Pocahontas cocked a brow. “My father?”

“No! Your John Rolfe, of course!” Grandmother Willow clarified.

Pocahontas blinked. “Oh! Well, um…” she thought aloud, envisioning John Rolfe in her mind. She placed a hand flat above her head. “He’s about this much taller than me and he has long reddish hair that he usually keeps loosely tied back. His eyes are green like summer leaves and his skin is very fair. Though his hair is darker than John Smith’s, his complexion is lighter oddly enough. He has a square jaw and a straight nose. He also has broad shoulders. I love his voice. And he smells really nice all the time.”

“Mm,” Grandmother Willow murmured in a dreamy manner. “He sounds handsome.”

Pocahontas flushed and sat back, wrapping her arms around her knees in a girlish manner. She could not help but utter a giggle in response to Grandmother Willow’s words. “He isn’t difficult to look at,” she agreed, feeling butterflies in her stomach at the thought. Then she frowned. “I miss him. I really wish that stupid governor would let him out of Jamestown! I’m not used to being away from him for this long. It’s nerve-wracking,” she admitted, staring down wistfully at a patch of lichen-covered bark.

Grandmother Willow smirked. “Well, I get a feeling everything will turn out alright soon enough. All it takes is a little patience, child. You can muster some of that, can’t you?”

“I’ll try,” Pocahontas returned.

After that, Grandmother Willow went on to ask Pocahontas about her travels. The young Powhatan woman began to recount the story again, this time revealing every truthful detail since she did not need to conceal her relationship with the English diplomat. She had gotten to the part where Nicole had attempted to use deceit to steal John Rolfe’s affections when she suddenly heard Naganwaya’s voice calling to her. “Pocahontas! It’s getting late!” he announced to her. “Your father will want us back soon!”

When Pocahontas glanced up at the sky through the threadbare winter branches, she came to realize it was almost twilight. “Time must have gotten away from me,” she uttered to Grandmother Willow. “How long have I kept him waiting?” Pocahontas asked no one in particular, shaking her head at her own absent-mindedness. She called back to the warrior over her shoulder. “Sorry, Naganwaya! I will be there in just a minute!” Pocahontas then turned back to Grandmother Willow. “I guess I better go now,” the young woman spoke, pushing herself back up to her feet. “I will stop by again when I can to finish the story.”

“Good,” Grandmother Willow replied. “I can’t wait to hear the rest. And, when you get a chance, bring John Rolfe. Even if I can’t speak to him, I’d like to see him in person.”

Pocahontas thought for a moment. “I suppose I could do that.” She paused and added, “But only if you promise to stay quiet until I have prepared him for an introduction.”

“I promise!” The old tree smiled. “Now, run along. Don’t keep your father waiting.”

…

It was late at night. John Rolfe had fallen asleep waiting for Meeko and Flit. It was the scratching on the window that roused him. He sat up in bed.  _ “Meeko, Flit!” _ Rolfe whispered, not wanting to awaken anyone sleeping at the inn. He opened the window and let them inside. Meeko cooed up at him. “Are you two ready?” Rolfe inquired, putting on a dark cloak that Mrs. Breckinridge had given him. Meeko and Flit both nodded. The only source of light in the room aside from the dying flames in the fireplace was a small handheld oil lamp. The English gentleman put his snow pants and boots on.

He turned his attention to Meeko and Flit. “Alright, boys. There's a pet flap on the front door of the governor’s mansion that's big enough for the both of you to enter. All you have to do is sneak by the guards. I’ll be waiting by a window in the back. Once you’ve got evidence of a hidden food supply, come and unlock the window from the inside. You can hand it to me through the window. Whatever you do, don't get caught! Understand?”

Meeko and Flit nodded again. John Rolfe used an opaque cloth to cover the dim light from the lamp and then he placed it on the nightstand near the window. To avoid arousing suspicion or being overheard leaving the premises, John Rolfe opened the window in his bedroom wide and crawled out onto a small mountain of snow. He turned around and reached inside, retrieving the blacked-out lamp. Meeko and Flit followed the young man outside before he closed the window most of the way to prevent the cold from filling the room in his absence. The diplomat slid down the incline on his backside.

If not for the moon and stars, it would have been pitch black out. There were sparse lights coming from a few windows, but most of the homes were dark inside as the residents slept soundly. John Rolfe, Meeko, and Flit crept along in silence behind the backs of buildings, wading through fluffy snow drifts on untrodden paths to avoid being spotted.

John Rolfe was pleased to find that all of the windows in the governor’s mansion were completely dark. The only lights coming from the premises were two torches, one on each side of the front door on the portico. Throwing a glance around a corner of the building, John Rolfe saw two guards were stationed in the usual locations in front of the portico. Neither looked particularly alert, as it was clear they both would have preferred to be in a nice warm bed at such an hour. Rolfe turned his attention to the two animals.  _ “Looks like you two won't have too much trouble sneaking past those bozos. Just promise me you will be careful while you are inside. I haven’t a clue how light or heavy a sleeper the governor is, so you will both have to approach with great caution.” _

Meeko and Flit both gave him a dutiful salute. John Rolfe showed them the window he would be waiting by before he sent them inside. The English gentleman had to wait in a pile of snow. He stayed seated in the fluff for what felt like an eternity but, in reality, was only ten minutes. By the time he heard a scratch at the window, his posterior had again been rendered numb from the bitter cold. He glanced into the window and watched as Meeko unlocked it with a  _ click! _ John Rolfe pushed the large window open as slowly and quietly as he could and smiled at the animals.  _ “What’ve you got for me?” _ he inquired in a whisper, examining them for food. He saw nothing and frowned.

Rather than offering John Rolfe what it was that he was hoping for, Meeko and Flit frantically beckoned him inside with them. The Englishman’s eyes widened.  _ “I-I don't know if that's such a good idea, boys. I…” _ Rolfe tried to protest, but Meeko grabbed his hand and tried to pull him in through the window.  _ “Alright, alright!” _ he conceded, handing the lamp over to Meeko.  _ “Careful, don’t drop that,” _ the gentleman warned as he grabbed hold of the sturdy window frame. The raccoon set the lamp aside and out of the way before returning to help John Rolfe get himself through the window.

John Rolfe sat up on the window sill and pulled off his boots and snow pants, leaving them just outside to avoid tracking snow or dirt inside the mansion. He ducked his head down and held onto the window as he maneuvered himself inside carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible. Once he was flat on his feet, he slowly closed the large window until it was all the way shut. The young diplomat was pleased to find that the mansion was very well built. The floorboards hardly creaked at all as he put his weight to them. He retrieved the lamp and turned his attention back to his animal friends.

The raccoon cooed up at John Rolfe and beckoned him to follow, which the diplomat did without hesitation.  _ “What is it, Meeko?" _ Rolfe whispered as the stripe-tailed animal led him into a lavish sitting room with beautifully embroidered chairs, a great big redbrick fireplace, and a colorful Persian carpet that was about three-and-a-half by five feet in dimensions. It lay across the hardwood floor right in the middle of the room and on it sat the most beautiful gilded harp that John Rolfe had ever the pleasure to lay eyes upon. Meeko started sniffing at the rug. He took one fringed edge of it in his mouth and peeled it back, revealing a corner of a concealed trap-door that obviously led down into a cellar of some kind. When Meeko let go of the stiff rug, it rolled back into place.

John Rolfe’s eyes turned to saucers. The gentleman carefully picked up the harp and set it out of the way. Then he rolled up the whole rug to reveal the entire door. Meeko eagerly started sniffing around the edges. John Rolfe saw the raccoon lick his lips hungrily and use his little paws to grab onto the ring, trying to pull the door up. The raccoon yanked with all his might, but he was not big or strong enough to lift it alone. Human hands were required for the task.  _ “Step aside, Meeko,” _ whispered John Rolfe, setting the lamp down on the floor by the door. He positioned himself in front of the hatch with a wide stance and grabbed a hold of the ring. Keeping his back straight, he lifted with his legs. The door was immensely heavy, but he had gotten it up soon enough. He peered into the dark space with nothing but a few steps sparsely visible in the moonlight. It looked spooky.

Meeko and Flit had already disappeared down into the interior by the time John Rolfe had slowly and quietly propped the door up on its built-in rod. Rolfe raised a brow when he could hear the sounds of munching and crunching coming from inside. He cautiously stepped down into the pitch-black cellar, taking the lamp. Rolfe rested his weight against the steps behind him and removed the obscuring cloth from the lamp. He gasped at the sight laid out before him. Oh, he had found the stolen corn alright. And so much more. The floor and shelves were stacked high with all manner of food items, in some places clear up to the ceiling. Maize, beans, ham, roast beef, pheasant, flour, great big truckles of cheese, bread, French wines, sausages, vegetables, fruits—it was a vast smorgasbord. The winter cold in the cellar had done a great job of preserving the more perishable items. It all looked to be in excellent condition with minimal signs of pest invasion.

There was even a supply of sweet tobacco in one corner. John Rolfe’s jaw was on the floor at the personified gluttony that was Governor West. He had to shake himself to regain his senses.  _ “Meeko!” _ he snapped in a whisper.  _ “Stop eating everything. The people of Jamestown and Werowocomoco need this food to survive,” _ he admonished.

Meeko dropped the second half of the pork sausage he had been stuffing his face with and looked up at John Rolfe, his furry visage laden with guilt. The young Englishman hopped down into the cellar and put the lamp atop a crate of flour.  _ “Don't worry, Meeko. You'll be heavily rewarded for your work in uncovering this hoard, trust me,” _ John Rolfe pointed out, giving the raccoon a wink. Flit buzzed over to Meeko and smiled.

The diplomat grabbed an empty sack and stuffed it with a variety of different food items, including ears of corn. He hefted it over his shoulder.  _ “Come on, this is all we are going to take for now,” _ John Rolfe decreed. _ “Let’s get out of here before we get caught. We… Oh, my goodness!” _ the young man exclaimed as he felt something brush against his leg. The diplomat glanced down to find a big fluffy white cat rubbing on his calves. Having found a human host to lavish affection upon, the feline had begun to purr audibly. John Rolfe blinked in bewilderment.  _ “Well, hello there, Mr. Fluff. How are you?” _

He was taken aback by how friendly the cat was, given the unpleasant character of the animal's owner. John Rolfe set the sack on the stone floor and reached down to scratch the cat behind the ears.  _ “What were those guards talking about? You're not fat, you're just big and fluffy,” _ Rolfe uttered as the cat started head-butting his hand.  _ “I’m sorry that I'm going to have to reveal your owner as a crook to the settlers. But don't you worry, I’ll make sure there’s someone to care for you whether Governor West is around or not.” _

John Rolfe gave the cat a couple more pets and then rose back up to his full height, picking up the sack.  _ “Come, boys, let’s go,” _ the British gentleman said to Meeko and Flit. He picked Mr. Fluff up and lifted him out of the cellar. The feline uttered a trill of delight as his feet touched the floor. The Englishman, raccoon, and hummingbird emerged from the cellar as well. After setting aside the lamp and sack of evidence, John Rolfe closed the cellar door and replaced the rug and harp exactly as they had been.

John Rolfe bade the cat farewell and snuck out the window with Flit. He closed the window, having Meeko lock it from the inside before the raccoon went to escape the premises through Mr. Fluff’s pet door. Once they were back at the inn, Rolfe sat down at his desk to write a letter to Pocahontas and the Powhatans. He gave it to Meeko, sending him and Flit off just as a heavy but windless snowfall began. The Englishman smiled at the lovely sight, knowing the snow would soon cover up their tracks.  _ “Hurry, boys,” _ Rolfe whispered. When the animals were gone, he closed the window and retired to a night of troubled sleep. John Rolfe had to find a way to unveil the governor's scam to the Jamestown populace without getting himself arrested by West's guards. Once the old baron was out of the way, they would tally up the governor’s food holdings. Then they would discover if there were indeed enough provisions to last the settlement the winter. 

…

**DECEMBER 23, 1613**

Pocahontas was woken up by Meeko at the crack of dawn. The raccoon dropped John Rolfe’s letter onto her stomach. Most people were still asleep. She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders, got out of bed, and sat at the small fire to read the diplomat’s letter.

_ Dear Pocahontas and the Powhatan people, _

_ Meeko, Flit, and I investigated the governor’s mansion last night to discover not only the stolen maize stolen but also an enormous hoard of food that might very well be enough to last everyone the winter. I plan to call a town meeting tomorrow to reveal the truth to the settlers. Wish me luck. I’m taking a huge risk, depending on how vengeful the governor is inclined to be. If I am successful, I’ll deliver the food to your village afterward. _

_ Yours truly, _

_ John Rolfe _

Though Pocahontas was encouraged by the discovery of food, her face was lined with anxiety concerning Rolfe’s safety. She glanced at Meeko and Flit who also looked very worried. The young woman trod over to the door of the longhouse and cracked it open. It was snowing very heavily. She pressed the letter to her chest and closed her eyes.  _ “Great Spirit, please watch over him for me today,” _ she whispered into the crisp cold air outside.

Pocahontas got out her writing supplies and wrote a letter to Rolfe, sending it off with Meeko. Unable to go back to sleep, she sat by the fire decorating a pair of moccasins with beads. She decided to wait for her father to awaken naturally before telling him the news.

…

John Rolfe was roused mid-morning by Meeko scratching on the window. This time the raccoon was not accompanied by Flit. When the Englishman allowed Meeko inside, he was presented with a letter from Pocahontas. He quickly tore it open and read.

_ Dear John, _

_ Good job last night. Please be careful today! Best of luck. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Pocahontas _

John Rolfe smiled and set the letter aside. He bathed, shaved, ate breakfast, cleaned his teeth, brushed his hair, and dressed himself in all the finery available to him. Today was the big day. Governor West would get one last chance to see him in person and, if the man should refuse again, trouble would ensue. John Rolfe stuffed all the food from the governor’s mansion into his rucksack, grabbed a hold of Wiggins, and dragged the innkeeper off in the direction of the Quincy residence. When they arrived, Rolfe was relieved to find that Mr. and Mrs. Quincy and young Rebeccah looked much better than the first time he had set eyes on them. Though they were still thin, much vitality and rosiness had returned to their smiling faces. Wiggins greeted them in an amiable tone.

John Rolfe then revealed to them all his discovery at the governor's mansion the previous night. All four of them were shocked into silence. Then he requested their support during the town meeting that he intended to call later that day. Wiggins appeared nervous, but he put on a brave face and agreed to help nonetheless. John Rolfe left his rucksack with the Quincys and pulled the king’s order out of his pocket, tapping his open palm with the thin tube. “Friends, wish me luck. I'm giving the governor one last chance to meet with me. After that, I call the town meeting to which I have invited you all. I will be back.”

John Rolfe bade them farewell and, with the greatest air of dignity possible, set off toward the ornery governor's mansion. Men shoveling the fresh snowfall outside stopped to peer at him in curiosity. He smiled and tipped his hat to them all. Women and children glanced out of frosty windows. When the diplomat reached Thomas West’s abode, a familiar set of guards were stationed out front. “Gentlemen,” John Rolfe stated in an affable yet serious tone, “I’m here to see the governor. I am willing to give him one last chance to meet with me on a critically important matter,” he confidently declared.

Both men shook their heads, though only the one to John Rolfe’s left spoke. “Sorry, sir. He says he’ll have our heads if we disturb him this morning. Neither of us has the gall to bother him again after he went off on us earlier,” the guard explained, looking regretful.

Though angered, John Rolfe kept his cool. “So am I to take it that you shan’t beseech him on my behalf then?” he further interrogated, wishing to first confirm their unwillingness.

They both shook their heads. “It's nothing personal, sir," the other one added.

With an unreadable look on his face, John Rolfe bobbed his head in acknowledgment and tapped himself on the forehead with the king's order. “Right then. I'll be off. Good day.”

Both men stared at John Rolfe in bafflement as he turned around and strutted off in the opposite direction.  _ “That was odd..." _ one uttered once the gentleman had disappeared.

John Rolfe headed straight back to the Quincys’ residence. He retrieved them and Wiggins as well as the rucksack and led them all to the town square. There, he found a bored soldier holding a horn. Rolfe politely asked to borrow the horn for a moment. The man shrugged and handed it over. The diplomat put the horn to his lips—to the great surprise of the one who owned it. He blew loud enough to wake the dead. Then Rolfe shoved it back in the rattled soldier’s hands, cupped the sides of his face, and blared, “HEAR YE, HEAR YE! COME ONE, COME ALL TO THE TOWN MEETING. I AM JOHN ROLFE OF LONDON AND I BEAR AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM THE KING OF ENGLAND!” He snatched the horn back and blew once again.


	4. Christ's Mass

Thomas West was eating his usual lavish breakfast when he overheard the commotion outside. He leaned toward the dining room window and peeked through the drapes, observing as people filed from their homes and headed to the town square. Then he rang the bell for his manservant, Francis Couper, but his maid Margaret Waters came instead. “Mr. Couper has made a run to the outhouse, sir. What can I do for you?” she asked.

Governor West groaned in annoyance and took a big bite out of a hot pastry. “I heard horns and a commotion outside. Send the guards to see what that is about and report back to me. They better not be having a town meeting without my authorization. Whoever’s responsible will have to be punished,” Thomas West indicated angrily, spewing crumbs out onto the table as he spoke. “In fact, I have a marked suspicion about just who might be responsible,” he irritably mused to himself. “And hurry it up, maid!”

“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Waters replied, shuffling quickly the room in compliance. She went to find the two guards on duty on the portico. Both of them were far more alert than usual. They appeared to be quite curious about the goings-on, though they dared not leave their posts without permission from the governor. Mrs. Waters brought them that permission. “Governor West orders you two to investigate this hubbub,” the older woman told them. “He says there is to be no town meeting without his direct authorization.”

“Aye,” both men replied, running off to the town square. When they arrived, they soon discovered a large crowd was gathering around a familiar face standing up on a makeshift platform of oversized wine barrels, boards, and stacking pallets. It was the diplomatic official from London again—‘John Rolfe’ as he had identified himself whilst attempting to gain entrance to the governor’s mansion over the course of the last few days.

“Small children in front, please,” John Rolfe indicated, beckoning the shortest members of the crowd forward. “Make way for everyone! You, sir, please stand to the side.”

The guards knitted their brows in frustration and sighed at having to deal with the same troublesome individual yet again. One soldier, Michael Fenton, looked to his compatriot, John Canon. “Come on,” Fenton groaned to Canon. “Let’s get this thing over with.”

Canon nodded and the two guards made their way through the crowd until they were standing right beside the agitator’s wine barrels. They peered up at John Rolfe who had yet to notice their presence. The guards exchanged glances with each other once more and Fenton turned his attention back to Rolfe, clearing his throat. “What’s all this?!” he announced in an authoritative voice, crossing his arms over his chest in a steely manner.

Every face in the crowd turned to the soldiers. All faces, that is, except John Rolfe’s. The diplomat knitted his brows in displeasure as he gazed down at them. “Gentlemen, I am going to have to ask you to move to the back,” Rolfe indicated, pointing the tube he had in his hand to where he wanted them to go. “You’re blocking some of the children.”

“The governor has not authorized a town meeting, Lord Rolfe,” Fenton charged, turning his attention to the crowd. “We order you all to disperse!” he decreed, throwing his arms out in a dramatic manner. He shifted his gaze back to John Rolfe. “I’m afraid that we are going to have to take you to the constable’s office, sir,” Fenton informed him.

Canon nodded his agreement. “Do come quietly, please!”

As the militant guards reached up to pull him down from the barrels, John Rolfe tore back to a stunned gasp from the crowd. “Keep your hands off of me! I do not require the governor’s authorization when I already have the authorization of our royal highness!” he spat back, twisting the end off of the tube he was holding. The young British gentleman pulled out an official-looking scroll, unrolled it, and turned it in the direction of the crowd. He made sure everyone got an eyeful of King James’s signature seal. He shoved it in the two guards’ faces. “Now, back off or you’ll be liable to be punished for treason!”

Fenton gaped in surprise. “The king?!”

“That’s right. I’ve come to present the king’s order to the people of Jamestown, as is my solemn sworn duty. Now please step back! Do not make me ask again.”

The soldiers exchanged glances again and stepped back. John Rolfe rolled up the scroll again and pointed the end into the crowd. “You there, I want a show of hands. Who here hasn’t gotten enough to eat in the last week? How many of you are hungry right now?”

Hesitant at first, the meek crowd raised their hands until nearly every man, woman, and child was doing so. John Rolfe drew his brows together and moved the hand bearing the scroll behind his back in a thoughtful manner as he took a quick tally with his free hand. “I see. It is rather unfortunate then that I must inform all of you that you have been quite deceived. There is far more food in Jamestown than you realize. The vast majority of it is being hoarded in the governor’s mansion cellar!” he charged, pointing the king’s order sharply in the direction of Thomas West’s abode. He beckoned Samuel Quincy to come forward. The man boldly stepped up and raised the rucksack up high enough for Rolfe to reach it. “Here is a small sample!” the diplomat announced, throwing open the top of his rucksack. He reached in and began tossing sausages, bread loaves, and other food items into the hungry crowd. “All came from the governor’s mansion, I tell you!”

Before John Rolfe knew it, the crowd was in a massive uproar. Children were grappling for the food. The diplomat had to raise his hands to calm them all down. “Do not fight! There is more where that came from, believe me. Please, everyone, share what you’ve got! Pass it around. If you please, I’m not finished. As I’m aware you’ve all been trapped inside the settlement for a while on governor’s orders, I’m afraid I must inform you of the reality of the conflict between the Powhatans and our humble town. There is no conflict except the one fabricated by Governor West. The Powhatans have not become hostile toward the people of Jamestown, that’s a lie! If you step foot outside the fortress, no harm will come to you as none came to me. I spent the night in the village of Werowocomoco a few days back and I’ve come to tell you all the truth!” he disclosed with great fervor.

Loud gasps and whisperings began amongst the crowd as John Rolfe continued, “Our governor sent a band of hostile men to attack the Powhatans two days back. Three hundred bushels of corn were stolen in the attack and hoarded in the governor’s mansion for his own selfish consumption. Furthermore, one of the princes of the Powhatan Nation, a young man named Keme, was badly injured in the attack. Due to the laws laid out in this document,” John Rolfe spoke, brandishing the king’s order, “it is my duty to bring the person responsible for that injury to justice. I believe that man is Governor West, the very same man who ordered his guards to attack the village in the first place.”

The people of Jamestown erupted into an angry fracas. Fenton grabbed Canon by the arm and pulled his peer toward him. “Listen to me,” he said. “We may not be able to silence him. but we must inform the governor. At least give West a chance to defend his name.”

John Canon nodded in agreement with his brethren and both guards ran off, heading back to the governor’s mansion. John Rolfe flipped open the scroll again and read, “I, King James, do decree that any settlers residing within the township of Jamestown responsible for hostilities against our friends, the Powhatans, are to be sent back to England on first available ship for royal judgment and punishment!” He rolled up the scroll. “This order gives the people of Jamestown, all of you, legal authority to depose the current governor for crimes against our allies. Not only have you the authority to do so but I would charge you with a responsibility as well—to king and country! Long live the king!”

“Long live the king!” echoed the boisterous crowd.

“Arrest him!” bellowed an angry voice from the back of the crowd. Everybody spun around to find none other than Thomas West himself pointing directly at John Rolfe. The hefty governor was decked out in all his usual finery. After getting dressed, he had come to check the ruckus out for himself. He was a few inches shorter than Rolfe, but five times the young diplomat’s girth, and he had a wardrobe to rival Rolfe’s finest London attire. The man sported graying brown hair and a chiseled beard and mustache that vaguely resembled Ratcliffe's. His large protruding belly bounced as he stomped forward with a furious expression, violently shoving his way through an astonished crowd as he pointed a fat finger accusingly at Rolfe. Thomas West’s face was crimson with rage. The settlers nearest the governor quickly retreated in fright. “Arrest him, I say!”

On each side of the governor stood five of his guards, ten in total. They were confused by the governor’s order to arrest the London official. “But he’s got a legal document with the king’s seal, governor!” one of the guards protested. “We can’t just arrest him!”

West turned an irate gaze to the objecting guard. “Capper, you’re fired!”

“Not to worry, Capper,” John Rolfe countered. “You’ll be hired again real soon.” He pointed the king’s order to the governor. “Look who has emerged from his cave after refusing to meet with me repeatedly! Governor West, I charge you to step down. By ordering an attack on our allies, you’ve broken English law and must be deposed!”

Thomas West’s nostrils flared at John Rolfe’s accusation. He was not about to go down without a fight. Reaching to his belt, he pulled out a long sleek pistol and pointed it at the gentleman. “He’s got a gun!” someone cried. The crowd shrieked and hit the ground to avoid being shot. Rolfe yelped and stumbled back slightly as West squeezed the trigger.

“Aaaahh!” Thomas West cried out as some unidentified animal sank its fangs into his fat calf, throwing off his aim. The bullet exploded against one of the wine barrels that John Rolfe was standing on top of, thus causing the diplomat to lose balance and tumble down to the snowy dirt. Meanwhile, the kids on the ground nearby got soaked with red wine.

Thomas West turned the gun on the mischievous raccoon and tried to shoot Meeko in the head but Capper grabbed hold of the gun. “Get the gun! Arrest him for attempted murder!” he cried. The other nine guards came to a collective decision and dog-piled on West, weighing him down to the ground as Capper tore the pistol out of his grip. “Lock him up in the constable’s office!” Capper charged, backing up from the scene.

He turned and ran to the front of the crowd, finding John Rolfe crumpled on the ground. His fine clothes were soaked with red wine, which made it appear as if the gentleman had been shot at first glance. Capper gasped in horror at the sight. The whole crowd was in a frenzied uproar as West was dragged off, parents seeking out their children to ensure they had not been shot or injured. John Rolfe groaned and pushed himself up from the ground. Capper helped him back to his feet. “Are you alright, sir?” the soldier inquired.

John Rolfe chuckled. “I’m alive and unhurt but I do think I’ll need a change of clothes.”

…

Just hours later, Pocahontas had wrapped up the tale of her travels at a second village meeting in the communal longhouse when the sound of jingling bells from outside claimed everyone’s attention. Fortunately, the weather was mild. Everyone rushed out of the longhouse to investigate the source of the noise. Pocahontas and Nakoma followed Chief Powhatan outside along with the crowd. Pocahontas caught sight of John Rolfe riding on the back of an enormous black gelding. The animal was pulling a red sleigh that was piled high with covered items. The warriors were in an instant uproar because it was apparently the same horse and sleigh that had been used to steal corn during the attack. The flustered Englishman raised his hands to calm everyone down, but his attempts were ineffective. Chief Powhatan made his way over to the horse and hushed the crowd as the posh diplomat slid gingerly down off the draft horse’s back and into the snow.

“Chief Powhatan!” John Rolfe greeted the Algonquin leader. “The governor is deposed and the king’s order is in effect now. I had to come at once to tell you the good news.”

“John!” Pocahontas cried, bolting over to him. She darted past her father and nearly bowled Rolfe over with a ruthlessly tight embrace around the middle. The Powhatan princess was so relieved to see him that she forgot herself in the face of the crowd.

Rolfe yelped in surprise and tried to squirm away, realizing the entire tribe was watching. He nearly lost the red hat on his head to a gust of wind. “Pocahontas, wait! I cannot breathe!” he wheezed. When Pocahontas let him go, he lost his balance and fell into a pile of snow behind him. The chief offered him a hand. When he accepted, he got yanked upright again. “Thank you, sir,” he uttered, turning around to recover his hat.

John Rolfe faced the crowd. “Greetings to you all,” he spoke in a cordial tone.

Just then the tribe’s greatest warrior Naganwaya moved deftly through the throng and stopped some paces before the Englishman, sizing him up. The crowd froze—as did John Rolfe in response to their demeanor. Naganwaya kept an ever-stoic disposition, seeming unimpressed with the gentleman’s appearance. He peered at Pocahontas and nodded to John Rolfe. “This is not the white man your tale spoke of, is it?” he asked.

“Actually, it is!” Pocahontas replied, beaming. She gave John Rolfe a proud look and faced the crowd. “Cheskchamay, I want you to meet John Rolfe. I survived the pirate attack with him,” she spoke in Powhatan, beckoning the diplomat to step forward. Rolfe looked confused, not knowing what was being said, but he understood her body language well enough. He approached and nodded to the crowd, removing his hat out of courtesy.

Naganwaya walked up to John Rolfe until their noses were barely an inch apart. They were about the same height. Rolfe sucked in a breath. The warrior examined him closely. Rolfe’s emerald eyes dilated like those of a prey animal at the invasion of his personal space. “Oh my… um… How do you do?” he murmured, shooting a glance to Pocahontas. “Or should I say wingapo?” he corrected, squeezing his hat to his chest in discomfort.

Naganwaya raised a brow at the demure behavior and snorted. He began to encircle John Rolfe to get a better look at him. When he was finished, he trudged over to Pocahontas to present his verdict. Every man, woman, and child in the crowd stayed totally still in anticipation of the warrior’s judgment. “He does not look very strong,” Naganwaya said.

Pocahontas drew her brows together, gazing at the warrior with a look of irritation. “He lost weight on our journey. He will regain it when food is plentiful again,” she retorted.

The brave did not seem to pay Pocahontas’s words much heed as he turned his attention to the chief. “Great Powhatan, we must ask him about the stolen maize.”

Chief Powhatan nodded in agreement. “Have you brought us the food that was stolen?” Powhatan inquired in English, flashing a glance at the sleigh in Rolfe’s possession.

John Rolfe gathered his wits once he was no longer under scrutiny, smiling. “Yes, sir,” he replied, plodding over to the red sleigh. He untied some ropes and then yanked off the cover, revealing many baskets of golden maize stacked on top of several wooden crates.

Naganwaya rushed forth, scrutinizing the sleigh’s contents. “That is not all of it!”

John Rolfe put his hat back on. “I know!” he cried defensively. “With the ammunition your chief ordered, I had too much to carry. I’ll have to go back for the rest.”

“Ammunition?” Chief Powhatan uttered, examining the crates.

“Yes. You wanted musket balls to practice shooting, did you not?” John Rolfe clarified, picking up a basket of corn. He handed it to a woman in the crowd standing near him, saying, “Here you go, miss. Take that back to where it belongs if you please.” She peered at it in surprise but quickly accepted it. “Let’s get this maize unloaded so I can show you the ammunition I have brought,” he declared. Chief Powhatan nodded and ordered the villagers to return all the corn to the storehouse. Rolfe then cranked open a crate of musket balls and showed them to the chief. “These are what you load the muskets with.”

“Yes,” Powhatan returned. “They look just like the one that Kekata extracted from my son’s leg.” He took one in his hand and examined it. Then Chief Powhatan put the ball back into the crate and ordered the warriors to move all the ammunition crates into another storehouse. They were too heavy for the women to carry, so the warriors had to do it. “I’ll call upon you when I am ready for the men to learn to use the fire sticks. But there are other orders of business that we must get out of the way first, such as the signing of a new peace treaty. Is it now safe for my people to enter Jamestown? We must deal with the peace treaty before the weather gets bad again and it will very soon. This is going to be a very harsh winter. I hope the settlers understand that,” he told Rolfe.

John Rolfe appeared thoughtful. “Yes, it is safe. Come to Jamestown with me now and we’ll talk peace. The fort should be open and no firearms will be pointed at you. I’ve made sure of that. We can also fetch the rest of the maize while we are there.”

“Father, can I come to Jamestown with you?” Pocahontas interjected. “I want to see my friends. It has been so long since I’ve seen Rebeccah and Wiggins and Thomas and…”

“The Quincys are doing much better, Pocahontas,” John Rolfe informed her, interrupting for a moment. “They have told me that they cannot wait to see you again. Naturally, you will be welcome in their home anytime. All were thrilled to learn of your survival.” He glanced up at the sky. It was cloudy but there was no snow. Still, it was cold. “If we go now, we should make it back before any foul weather has a chance at starting.”

…

When Pocahontas, John Rolfe, Chief Powhatan, and the Powhatan elders and warriors arrived in Jamestown, Pocahontas ran off to see to the Quincy family. The men congregated in the former governor’s mansion to discuss the peace treaty. A few hours later, they were almost through with their negotiations when Pocahontas and the Quincy women showed up. Rolfe was busy reading off a document to everyone present. “The final edict concerns mutual military defense. That means that if the Powhatans are under attack and in need of assistance, they have the right to call upon the soldiers of Jamestown for support in the expulsion of their enemies from the land. Likewise, if Jamestown is attacked—by a Spanish warship, for instance—the new governor will have the right to request military assistance from the Powhatan Nation if it is needed.”

John Rolfe stopped reading when the scent of blackberry pie permeated the room. All the men stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to Pocahontas and the Quincy girls. Hannah Quincy, carrying the baked good, smiled timidly at the men. “Don’t let us interrupt, Father,” Pocahontas said. “Mrs. Quincy made a pie for Keme. I thought we should bring it over so that we don’t forget it here when we leave. It’s a get-well gift.”

“It smells delicious,” Powhatan remarked, making Mrs. Quincy blush.

John Rolfe smiled. “Lucky Keme! Why don’t you all come in and leave the pie on the table over there?” he proposed, pointing to a side table by the wall. It was right next to the exit. “I’m certain that you all will notice it before you depart for Werowocomoco.”

Hannah Quincy did as John Rolfe indicated. Meanwhile, Pocahontas took a seat at the large dining table by her father. “We preliminarily agree to all the terms,” Chief Powhatan said to John Rolfe, getting back to the subject at hand. “However, I will need to run things by the chieftains of other villages in our nation before I can sign the peace treaty. I cannot make promises on their behalf. This task would normally only take a week or two but the weather is going to keep getting worse. It may not be until the spring that we are able to get this done. It’s unlikely enemies will attack during harsh weather anyway.”

There were three other Jamestown officials present aside from John Rolfe. All of them looked hesitant, though the young gentleman himself did not seem to mind in the least. “That’s no trouble at all. I will have you written up a copy straight away. When you’re ready to sign, come right back to Jamestown. Our doors will always be open to you from now on,” John Rolfe spoke. “The other officials and I have decided to declare this house a public town hall going forward. It will be open most of the time and the signed peace treaty, as well as the king’s order, will remain here on permanent public display.”

“Very well,” Chief Powhatan declared as he rose to his feet. The other Powhatan elders, warriors, and Pocahontas followed suit. “Our business for the day is concluded then.”

John Rolfe sent a man to another room to copy the terms of the peace treaty. “Just give him twenty minutes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I must go speak to Bill Bates about divvying up the food supplies. We’re trying to see if we can afford to put together a modest Christmas feast for the settlers in a couple days or if rations will be too strict.”

Once Chief Powhatan received his copy of the peace treaty, he and the elders left with the remaining corn and the pie for Keme. Powhatan promised to return the borrowed horse and sleigh when he came back to pick Pocahontas up later because she wanted some time to catch up with her friends. As soon as they were gone, Pocahontas approached Rolfe at the storehouse as he was helping Bill Bates calculate the new rations for the settlers.

“That should be enough to last until the next supply ship arrives,” John Rolfe spoke. “But it might not be a bad idea to take precautions since the last ship never did make it.”

“John,” Pocahontas interrupted, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.

John Rolfe spun around to find Pocahontas peering up at him with a hopeful gaze. “What is it, Pocahontas? Oh! Before I forget… We’ve decided to hold a Christmas celebration in the new town hall on Christmas Day. I’m afraid the feast is going to be modest but there will be carols and dancing and even some storytelling. Would you like to come? I would have invited more of your people but I’m afraid we wouldn’t be able to feed them all.”

“Yes, I’d love to come!” Pocahontas replied, pausing. “Can I speak with you in private?”

John Rolfe blinked. “Yes, of course.” He turned his attention to Bates. “I’ll be back. Keep up the good work, chap,” he said, taking his leave. He led Pocahontas back to the new town hall, which was empty as the other officials had returned to their respective homes. The moment they walked past the door threshold, Pocahontas threw her arms around Rolfe’s neck and kissed him. He chuckled when she drew back. “Oh, is that what this was all about?” the diplomat inquired teasingly, wrapping his arms around her slim waist.

“I missed you!” she exclaimed. “I was so worried when you were trapped in Jamestown. Where’s the former governor now?” the young woman asked, gazing around.

John Rolfe drew his brows together and placed his hands on his hips, appearing quite cross. “In jail, of course, and that’s where he’ll remain until the next ship arrives to take him back to England. His menu just went from lavish meals to a moldy crust of bread every now and again and there’s nothing he can do about it,” Rolfe sternly spoke.

“I can’t believe how selfish he was!” she cried. “To hoard food while children starved.”

John Rolfe snorted and swung Pocahontas around playfully. “Welcome to the world of English hierarchy. Not exactly the principles that I myself prefer to live by.” Pocahontas laughed just as Mr. Fluff jumped up onto a nearby table with a pronounced meow to get the humans’ attention. Pocahontas jumped at first, surprised. “Hello again, Mr. Fluff,” Rolfe greeted, shooting a glance at Pocahontas. “That’s the former governor’s cat. I suppose Mr. Fluff was taking a nap earlier when your people were here. I’ve pledged to find someone new to take care of him since West is in jail,” he mused, reaching over to scratch Mr. Fluff behind the ears. The cat licked his fingertips and head-butted his hand, purring loudly. “He’s just so friendly, I can’t imagine many would refuse.”

“How about we ask the Quincys?” Pocahontas proposed. “Rebeccah loves animals!”

John Rolfe scratched his chin. “Perhaps. But Bill Bates mentioned to me earlier that he wished he had a cat. There’s a mouse infestation in the storehouse that needs to be dealt with. I think we should let him use Mr. Fluff temporarily for that purpose at least.”

“Ah. Good point,” Pocahontas returned.

John Rolfe released Pocahontas and turned his attention fully to Mr. Fluff, scooping him up off the table. The cat relaxed in Rolfe’s grasp. “Good boy. Come, Pocahontas, let’s take him to see Mr. Bates. I am not sure how good a mouser Mr. Fluff is but we’ve got to give him a chance to prove himself. If not, he can go straight to the Quincy family next.”

Pocahontas held the door open for John Rolfe and followed him outside. Bill Bates was rearranging the new supplies when they arrived. Rolfe knocked once on the open door to get the man’s attention. Bates turned around and spotted the cat. “Is that for me?”

“Yes, say hello to Mr. Fluff,” John Rolfe replied. “But you’ve got to treat him nicely, Mr. Bates. He requires lots of attention. If he doesn’t turn out to be a good mouser, just let me know and I’ll gladly transfer him to another household.” Mr. Fluff hopped down from Rolfe’s arms and ambled over to Bates. The overseer reached down to let the cat sniff his hand, which Mr. Fluff did without hesitation. Then he head-butted the hand.

“Ah, I see what you mean about him being friendly,” Bates remarked, scratching the cat behind the ears. “I thank you for this, Lord Rolfe. I’ll do my best to tend to his needs. It is too bad there aren’t more cats in Jamestown. Would really help with the rodent problem.”

John Rolfe scratched his chin in thought. “So Mr. Fluff is the only cat in Jamestown?”

“I am not sure,” Bates said. “I haven’t seen any others as I recall. Anyhow, Lord Rolfe, I started to set aside some ingredients that could go to the Christmas feast you ordered over in that yonder corner,” he pointed out. John Rolfe glanced over to said corner of the storehouse to find two large bags of flour and some other items. “I’m sure my wife would be glad to cook up some dishes. If you can just get a few other women to volunteer as cooks, that would be great. Are you the one to be organizing this party?”

Rolfe nodded. “I suppose so. I don’t mind being the organizer. I have some good ideas to entertain the crowd. Did you know there’s a lovely harp in the new town hall? I ought to get some practice in before Christmas. Ooh, yes, I can see it now. I best get to planning!”

“That’s the spirit!” Bates lauded, clapping John Rolfe on the back.

“Can I bring a dish?” Pocahontas inquired, getting excited. “I like to cook too. I could make boiled yams or sweet squash stuffed with toasted nuts and maple syrup.”

John Rolfe looked hungry. “That sounds delicious. Of course, you can bring what you’d like, Pocahontas,” he replied, laughing. “I didn’t know you were so fond of cooking.”

Pocahontas shrugged. “It’s an interest that comes and goes for me.”

John Rolfe smiled. “Well, it’s good. I want to make sure there’s at least enough food such that no one goes home hungry. Of course, normally everyone likes to stuff themselves in winter but we’re going to have to be a bit conservative this year. I thought it’d be a good idea to get someone to man the tables and make sure that some people do not make pigs of themselves and rob others of the chance to try the dishes. I find a decent rule of thumb is to only take one of something until everyone’s at least had a chance to try it.”

“That sounds like a good idea if there’s a limited amount of food,” Pocahontas replied.

John Rolfe appeared to have a revelation as his eyes widened. “Oh, Pocahontas! After the party, I was wondering if you could spend some time with me to re-record those Powhatan folk tales I had to throw out when the pirates attacked our ship. Assuming the weather is good enough for one or both of us to make the journey to the other’s home, of course. I wouldn’t want to put you in any danger from the winter weather.”

“Once the weather gets bad, my father usually prefers for me to stay close to home.”

“In that case, I’ll take the risk and go to Werowocomoco,” John Rolfe proposed.

Pocahontas had a thoughtful look. She knew the weather was going to get very bad soon and it would likely mean she would not be able to visit Jamestown for weeks or even up to a month or more. She sincerely did not want to be separated from John Rolfe for that long. An idea occurred to her. “Or I could ask Father if I could stay with the Quincys in Jamestown for part of the winter. Then there would be no risk to either of us. It worries me slightly because you do not know the land like I do. If you got caught in a storm…”

John Rolfe chuckled. “You’re right, I’d probably perish. Well, I do hope your father will let you. We could do it in the town hall. I’d work on my archives while you work on the crafts you’d brought with you. You do a lot of sewing in the winter months, do you not?”

“Yes,” Pocahontas returned. “And beading and basket-making and all kinds of things. I will ask Father when he comes to pick me up. Then I’ll go get my things and come back. I’ll bring the ingredients for the dish I want to make for the Christmas party too.”

“Come, let’s go ask the Quincys if you can stay with them. They might need an extra bed and I am sure we can spare one from the town hall if necessary,” John Rolfe indicated.

…

Powhatan returned with his warriors in an hour. John Rolfe was party-planning with Pocahontas in the town hall when he arrived. The chief knocked and was met by Francis Couper, the man who had lost his job as West’s personal manservant. As Couper was now unemployed, Rolfe had given him a job looking after the town hall. Rather than being a private servant, Couper would be a public servant to the people of Jamestown. He did not seem to mind. The thin blond man came to the door to meet the chief. He swept himself aside and gestured for the Powhatans to enter in a very dignified yet subservient manner. “Do come in, sir. Lord Rolfe and Princess Pocahontas are in the drawing room.”

Men shuffled about and went through the ex-governor’s belongings to see what could be of use to the Jamestown populace. They tried to stay out of the way of Chief Powhatan and his men. “This way, good sirs,” Francis Couper directed the Powhatans. He entered the drawing room and held the door open. “Lord Rolfe, the Powhatans have returned.”

John Rolfe and Pocahontas had been grueling over a to-do list for the upcoming party when the latter’s father got back. “We have returned the horse and sleigh to the stable. Come, Daughter, it’s time we went home,” Chief Powhatan bade her, beckoning.

John Rolfe exchanged glances with Pocahontas, wondering if she was going to ask her father permission to stay in Jamestown right there. She pursed her lips and stood up, leading her father out of the room. “Okay, Father. But I need to speak with you about something in private,” the gentleman heard her utter as they walked out into the hall.

The diplomat and house servant waited awkwardly with the warriors. There were three of them and the one John Rolfe recognized from the village, Naganwaya, seemed to be their second-in-command after the chief himself. The awkward silence made the two whites a little uncomfortable. Rolfe exchanged glances with Couper and cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose we could offer you, gentlemen, a cup of tea?” Rolfe offered with a small simper, addressing the warriors. Francis Couper’s body language indicated he was ready to hop right to the kitchen should any of the trio of visitors respond affirmatively.

The warriors glanced at each with confusion as if they had no idea what John Rolfe was talking about. Naganwaya, the only English speaker among them, addressed him. “What is cup of tea?” the man inquired, raising a brow at Rolfe in reserved curiosity.

John Rolfe blinked. “Oh, it’s a hot beverage. Excellent for the winter cold.”

Naganwaya muttered something to the other warriors in Powhatan and turned back to shake his head. “We are not cold,” he replied, an ever stoic expression about his face.

John Rolfe laced his fingers together and smiled. “Oh, good.”

The awkward silence ensued until the royals returned a few minutes later. “John, Father says I can stay for a few weeks as long as I don’t leave the settlement alone.”

John Rolfe perked up. “Oh? Excellent!”

Pocahontas smiled. “Yes, I’ll go get my things from home.”

“On another note,” Powhatan spoke up, “I have sent warriors to bring Namontack back to Werowocomoco for treatment. Kekata will need the medicinal tools you provided again.”

Rolfe nodded. “Mr. Couper!” he announced, getting the servant’s attention. “Please escort Chief Powhatan to the doctor’s office and get him the tools he needs. Let the doctor know he has no choice in the matter. This is an official order from the new town hall.”

“Certainly, milord,” Couper returned. He beckoned Chief Powhatan. “This way, sir.”

Once the medical bag was back in the chief’s possession, he and the other Powhatans left for Werowocomoco once again. Pocahontas tagged along with them to get her things.

…

Pocahontas returned in about an hour and a half, escorted by the warrior Naganwaya on a dogsled. “I do not understand why you want to spend the winter in Jamestown of all places, Pocahontas,” the warrior protested as he helped her bring her belongings into the Quincy home. Samuel Quincy was helping them unload as well. “You aren’t thinking about moving away from our people’s lands permanently, are you? Is this all because of what Chogan said last winter? Just so you know, he is ashamed of his words. After all that you have done for us, he has much more respect for you now. Nobody in our nation would dare accuse you of speaking with the tongue of a paleface these days. And, quite honestly, I think you belong with us and not with them. You’re one of us, after all.”

Pocahontas flashed Naganwaya a reassuring smile. “No worries. This is just an extended visit so I can help a friend. I will be back to stay in the early spring at the very latest.”

Naganwaya appeared curious. “Who is the friend and what are you helping her with?”

“Him,” Pocahontas corrected.

“Hm?”

She flashed a glance in the direction of the new town hall. “I’m helping John Rolfe with something. When we were on the ship heading back to this land, he started something called an ‘archive.’ Basically, it means that he must record large amounts of information on paper through writing. It is a duty charged to him by King James, the pale chief. Right now, John Rolfe is engaged in recording the legends of our people,” she explained.

Naganwaya raised a brow as if the very concept eluded him. “Why on earth would the pale chief want him to do that?” he asked. “What are they going to do with our legends?”

“Probably publish them,” Pocahontas replied. “And the reason they’re doing it is, in John Rolfe’s own words, for ‘the noble pursuit of knowledge.’ English people like sharing stories as much as any other people,” she said as if it was a no-brainer. “Don’t you?”

The warrior seemed confused and suspicious if not outright offended. “But why do they need our stories? Why don’t they just share their own stories amongst themselves?”

“They do share their own stories. But what’s wrong with having an interest in the legends of other cultures? You make it sound like they are stealing from us, Naganwaya.”

Naganwaya almost huffed at that. “I don’t know. It just seems strange to me.”

Pocahontas patted his shoulder, almost startling him. “Don’t worry your head over it. Come, let’s get these pumpkins inside,” she said, lifting up one of the heavy gourds from the dogsled. The pups seemed restless in their harnesses, almost snapping at one another.

Samuel came back out from inside his cottage and offered his arms for the pumpkin. “Let me take that. I’ll put it in the kitchen for you, Pocahontas,” declared the bearded man.

They finished unpacking as the men from the town hall arrived with the disjointed pieces of a twin bed frame for Pocahontas. The Powhatan woman turned her attention back to Naganwaya. “Say farewell to my father for me. And tell him not to worry, I won’t leave the settlement without him or a warrior escort. Besides, I think we’ll be snowed in soon.”

The warrior nodded. “I’ll tell him for you. Have a nice winter, Pocahontas. We’ll send warriors to check on you every now and again when the weather is tolerable,” he replied, mounting the dogsled. He took the reins and snapped them. “Ana, Pocahontas!”

“Ana, Naganwaya!” Pocahontas called after him as he rode off through the snow.

Rebeccah’s voice rang out from an open window. “Come in, Pocahontas! Mummy has an idea to make several pumpkin pies for the party! We must show you the recipe.”

“Coming!” Pocahontas called back, rushing back inside the warm cottage.

…

**DECEMBER 24, 1613**

The next day was Christmas Eve. With the help of Pocahontas, the Quincys, and a few other families, John Rolfe had managed to get all the party-related affairs in order. He had everything planned for Christmas from top to bottom. The town hall was decked out with holly, mistletoe, silver bells, and a seven-foot evergreen Christmas tree that the men had procured from the forest just up the hill. Earlier that morning, he had called everyone in Jamestown together and announced the planned festivities for the following day.

The settlers were thrilled. All of the children took to dancing in the snow at the revelation that there would be a Christmas after all. John Rolfe had discovered a treasure trove of toys belonging to the self-indulgent ex-governor in the town hall master suite and he did not intend to let them go to waste. He instructed that any child wanting Christmas goodies should bring a stocking to hang by the big hearth in the town hall sitting room by Christmas morning at the latest. All the children brought their stockings that evening.

The party was scheduled to begin at four o’clock on Christmas Day and go until well after dark. A band of men with rifles was sent on a hunting trip to procure fresh meat for the party. They came back with three big turkeys by nightfall Christmas Eve. Fortunately, they made it back just as another heavy snowfall began. John Rolfe had gathered a group of children from the church choir together to sing the carols. They spent hours rehearsing their songs on Christmas Eve in the town hall. A group of ten little women took over the ex-governor’s gourmet kitchen to cook up tasty dishes for the festivities.

**DECEMBER 25, 1613**

The time for the party came around right after church attendance. Hundreds of settlers gathered outside the broad double-doors to the new town hall. All were still dressed up in their Sunday best for the merry occasion. Francis Couper stood on the portico ringing silver bells in each hand. When it was time for him to open the doors to the public, the partygoers were all greeted inside by the children’s choir on the left. The kids sang their Christmas hymns in miraculous harmony with John Rolfe’s harp accompaniment. A nativity scene built of carved wooden figurines stood to the right as the people entered the hall. Pocahontas sat behind Rolfe as he occupied the gilded harp beside the children’s choir, watching as the townspeople entered. It was a beautiful heartwarming scene and everyone appreciated it very much indeed. Pocahontas ran back to the kitchen to check on the women who were busy cooking up a small delicious feast for all the celebrants.

When Pocahontas returned, the carols had been concluded and everyone gathered in the largest room in the building—the drawing room. Wine was served to adults and goat’s milk and water to children. Hot spiced tea was available for everyone. The room was packed as Rolfe stood up on a small platform beside the decorated tree. He tapped a small metal implement against his wine glass, which gradually got everyone’s attention. “Hello, hello!” he announced as they all turned towards him. “Merry Christmas to you all!”

The room returned his holiday greeting gaily. He continued, “Now, everybody, here’s how things are going to work this evening. The children are absolutely not to peek into their stockings until after most of the festivities.” He gestured to the fireplace, which was lined with nearly sixty stockings that were stuffed to the brim. “As you all can see, St. Nicholas dropped us a visit last night. The only reason I am asking you to wait is that the town hall is awfully full and I would not want any child to lose his or her new toys to the crowd. I don’t want to see anybody touch those stockings until after I give the go-ahead, understand?” the British gentleman charged in a stern but light-hearted voice.

The children all nodded their heads. “Yes, Lord Rolfe,” they spoke in unison.

“Very good then. Now that the carols have been sung, it’s time for things to get livelier! John Hart, my good man, where are you?” Rolfe charged, glancing around the room.

A lanky gray-haired gentleman with a beard and violin held up his bow. “Right here!”

John Rolfe beckoned him to step forward. “Ladies and gentlemen, please make some room in the middle of the floor. Those who wish to dance the quadrilles, please step forward. We’ll need an even number of men and women. Every gentleman must choose himself a lady. Come now, don’t be shy. Ah, good. I thank you all. Now, there’s only enough room for eight couples so I beseech you all to take turns. Yes. The children are permitted to dance but they must have a partner also. Age isn’t an issue. Thank you. You there, sir, please step forward. I say, we’ve got plenty of…” John Rolfe directed.

Everyone was in good humor as they got in position for the traditional folk dances, but some people were hungrier than others. “The dancing’s all well and good but when’s the feast?!” demanded a finicky voice from the crowd. Everyone turned to Gregory Hiffler. He was a middle-aged man who worked in construction and was known for his sizable appetite. Whispers of amusement were heard around the room at the sudden inquiry.

John Rolfe was caught off-guard. “The feast? Oh yes, the feast! We’ve got lots of lovely ladies hard at work in the kitchen for us. The feast will be served in just over an hour’s time in the dining hall, which is presently closed off to us as it is being prepared. Until then, Mr. Couper and the other attendants will be serving some hors-d’oeuvres to those who aren’t on the dance floor. Now I must warn you, ladies and gentlemen, due to the food shortage the feast is going to be somewhat modest this year. That is why we have a new rule. You only take one of something until everyone else who wants to try it has had a chance. Only then will seconds be permitted. We’ll have a few servers attending the tables to ensure that people don’t get greedy. Remember, we’re all here to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior. As far as I’m concerned, that means following his righteous example. Sharing is caring,” Rolfe announced, receiving a few small groans of protest.

John Rolfe chuckled. “Look. I know everyone loves stuffing themselves for the holidays but this year is going to be a bit different,” he gently chided, placing his hands on his hips. “Food is not as plentiful as usual so we are just going to have to conserve. That’s the way of it. Count your blessings. Once the feast is ready, we’ll say grace and file into the dining hall in an orderly fashion. Till then, we dance. Mr. Hart, please take things away!”

The fiddle music started. The couples who were lined up to dance launched themselves right into spirited quadrilles as others watched, drank wine, and conversed nearby. Some men, women, and children clapped along to the beat. Once the first round was finished, new couples came onto the floor and replaced the previous ones. The next dance was to a faster beat and it evoked a lot of amused laughter and hooting from the enchanted crowd. Pocahontas loved watching the couples dance. She had always loved English folk dances far more than the priggish subdued moves of the upper classes which John Rolfe had taught her for the Hunt Ball. They were infinitely more fun and lively.

It was the Quincy family who had taught her the folk dances. The moves were simple and easy to learn. She began to wonder if John Rolfe would ask her to dance. Fortunately, she did not have to wonder for long. After the first five rounds, everyone who had wanted to dance had gotten a turn and some of the previous dancers returned to the dance floor for more. “Pocahontas, would you like to catch a dance before the feast?” John Rolfe asked her as she watched two children dance, a ten-year-old boy with a slightly taller girl.

“Yes!” Pocahontas replied, taking his offered hand. A new set of couples took their positions, the Powhatan woman and English gentleman being among them. The beat was fast. Much faster than anything she had danced with him before. They were twirling, gypsying, basketing, dipping, and chassaying before she knew it. “When did you learn this kind of dance?” Pocahontas asked him as she started to pant from the exertion.

John Rolfe shook his head. “Just now. I watched. I’m a good visual learner.”

Pocahontas’s eyes popped open. “Really?”

“Yes. Folk dance is not something I was taught as a child. Only the dances of the elite,” he admitted as they twirled around. Before long, the song was over. Rolfe clapped loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, the quadrilles are over. It’s time for freestyle,” he declared, his words punctuated with a brand new tempo from the musician.

Couples got closer, clasped hands, and started hopping around to the rhythm of the music. John Rolfe took Pocahontas by the hand again. “John, I don’t know this one!”

“Neither do I. You make it up as you go,” John Rolfe told her, leading her on a fast pace waltz around the room. They had to be careful not to bump into other couples. Minutes passed as they frolicked away, losing themselves in each other’s arms. Some of the couples broke up and saw men and women dancing solo. Pocahontas caught a glance of one lady holding onto her long skirt with her arms akimbo as she performed a vigorous tap dance with her feet. Everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives.

When the second freestyle song ended, John Rolfe had planned to stick around to dance the next one with Pocahontas. But Mrs. Breckinridge from the inn interjected. “Lord Rolfe, there are some ladies in another room who I’m dying to introduce to you. One of them is very young and very shy and no one has asked her to dance yet,” spoke the older woman just before the next song could start and drown out her voice. She turned her attention to Pocahontas. “You don’t mind if I borrow him for a bit, do you, miss?” Mrs. Breckinridge inquired hopefully, grabbing John Rolfe by the hand.

Pocahontas shook her head, out of breath. She needed a break anyway. “I need a drink.”

“Come with me, Pocahontas,” Rolfe offered. “We’ll meet new folk and then get a drink together. I’m parched too!” he readily admitted, taking her by the hand with his free one.

“Alright.”

Mrs. Breckinridge led them through the dancing crowd and out of the room. John Rolfe had become extremely popular in Jamestown overnight. Lots of people greeted him enthusiastically as he passed by. He gave them all a polite wave and the usual “Merry Christmas.” A pair of blonde women stood by the staircase to the second floor. One looked older than the other as if they were mother and daughter. The young one was thin but very pretty in the face. Pocahontas noticed that she looked terribly nervous though as she wrung her hands. Her mother had a hand placed on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. The mother was the first to notice their approach. She snapped on a smile and turned her daughter to face John Rolfe. The girl blushed like her face was on fire. “Mrs. Spurling,” spoke Mrs. Breckinridge with a warm smile, “I’d like to introduce you to Lord John Rolfe from London. Lord Rolfe? This is Mrs. Esther Spurling. She is the local gunsmith’s wife, Mr. Kellam Spurling. He’s very talented at what he does. I do not know if you’ve met him. He was unable to attend this evening, as he is sick in bed.”

John Rolfe frowned as he extended a hand to Mrs. Spurling. “That’s awful, madam. I’m sorry your husband was unable to attend,” he said, shaking her hand. He normally would have kissed it but he had a passing image in his head of another man kissing Pocahontas’s hand in front of him and he did not like it. He did not seem to mind the thought of others dancing with her though. That was expected socially. Not wanting to make Pocahontas upset, he decided to keep things as conservative as possible. “I’ll be sure to tell the guards at the serving tables to let you grab some extra food to bring home to your husband.”

“Thank you, Lord Rolfe. You are a wonderfully generous man! Have you heard what some of the people are saying about you? They’re calling you the savior of Jamestown.”

John Rolfe’s face went red. “What? Oh my… No, madam. I’m flattered but the fact is we have only one Lord and Savior and his name is Jesus Christ. I do not wish to be put on a pedestal. Besides, I could not have accomplished any of it without Pocahontas’s help,” he replied, gesturing to his lady accomplice. Pocahontas smiled amiably at Mrs. Spurling.

Mrs. Breckinridge chuckled. “Well, that’s who I am to introduce next. Mrs. Spurling, I’d like to introduce you to Princess Pocahontas, the closest daughter of Chief Powhatan.”

“Oh, I know!” Mrs. Spurling exclaimed, shaking hands with Pocahontas. “My dear, I’ve heard much about you. I’m only saddened we hadn’t the opportunity to meet sooner. It’s my understanding you have done so much for our small settlement. The Quincy family told my husband about it last winter,” she said, placing a hand on top of Pocahontas’s as they shook. “It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you as well. I hope we’ll become friends.”

“And you,” Pocahontas replied.

Mrs. Breckinridge looked excited as she moved to the young blonde’s side, the one who was blushing terribly. The girl stood back from John Rolfe as if she feared him. The red on her cheeks contrasted against her alabaster skin, extending to her ears. Pocahontas could not remember ever being so shy herself. “This young lady here is Mrs. Spurling’s sixteen-year-old daughter, Yvette Spurling. Yvette, dear, I’d like to introduce you to Lord John Rolfe.” She laughed and gazed at Rolfe. “Trust me, she’s heard all about you.”

The girl’s blush deepened as Rolfe offered a handshake. “Merry Christmas and pleasure to meet you, miss. It’s my understanding you haven’t danced yet. Do you know how?” he asked as she timidly extended her hand. Her grip was stronger than he was expecting.

“Y-yes, sir,” Yvette stammered, smiling bashfully. “Mum taught me.”

“Yvette, my dear, speak up. It’s hard to hear over the music,” her mother gently chided.

Yvette cleared her throat. “Yes, sir. I do know how to dance.”

John Rolfe returned a smile of delight and clapped his hands together. “Excellent! I’ll tell you ladies what. Pocahontas and I are thirsty. If you don’t mind, my dear, I’d like to meet you on the dance floor after we’ve gotten ourselves a drink. Say the song after next?”

“I would like that,” Yvette replied, containing a hint of excitement.

“Yvette, my dear, I suppose if your mother hasn’t met Pocahontas, you haven’t either,” Mrs. Breckinridge interjected. “Yvette, Pocahontas. Pocahontas, Yvette Spurling.”

Yvette’s blush waned and she smiled at Pocahontas, finding women far less intimidating. “It is lovely to meet you, Miss Pocahontas. Thank you for bringing us food before. My friends all say we owe you our lives for that,” she said, shaking Pocahontas’s hand.

Pocahontas smiled. “I was glad to help.”

“Well,” Mrs. Breckinridge announced, “you’ve all been introduced. Have a lovely rest of the evening. I best be off as I have a few more introductions to make.” She gave everyone a warm handshake and then scurried off to go about the rest of her self-appointed duties.

John Rolfe patted Pocahontas’s shoulder. “I’ll get the drinks. Do you want wine, water, or tea, Pocahontas?” he asked. “I’m afraid the milk’s all gone.” The Spurling women had no drinks either. “What about you two? Do you want anything to drink?”

“No, sir, we’re not thirsty,” Mrs. Spurling returned, flattered by the offer.

Yvette smiled and flushed. “Thank you for the offer, Lord Rolfe.”

“I’ll have water,” Pocahontas chimed.

Rolfe nodded. “Right then. I’ll be back. As for you, my dear,” Rolfe said, addressing the young blonde, “I’ll meet you on the dance floor soon enough.” He tipped his hat and left.

Pocahontas was momentarily distracted by a cheerful conversation between two jolly drunken men. When she turned her attention back to the blondes, a few unrelated girls had rushed in and were interrogating the blushing Yvette about the encounter she had just had. Even her mother was raving about it. “My dear, can you believe it? I never thought this settlement would see the day. A good noble Christian man like that… and single, I might add! You better say your prayers tonight, Yvette, because I do think good fortune finally smiles down upon our family,” Mrs. Spurling proclaimed excitedly.

“And you especially, Yvette,” one of girl’s brunette friends added. “Oh, I wish I was as pretty as you are. It’s just not fair. Don’t you dare waste this opportunity! I’ll be very cross if you do! Now, all we need to do is put more meat on your bones so you’ll be more shapely and voluptuous for Seigneur Rolfe. He’s bound to take an interest in you.”

A short girl with dirty blonde hair chimed in. “I’ll give you some of my rations! I don’t eat much anyway. Fortunately for us, rations will be much less restrictive now.”

Yvette’s face went crimson. “But I-I just get so nervous. I won’t know what to say.”

“You’ll think of it, love,” her mother returned. “Instinct takes over when the time comes.”

The other girls chimed in as they began swooning. They eulogized and extolled the man in his absence for what seemed an eternity. Pocahontas did not like what she was hearing.

“He’s so handsome! Absolutely gorgeous!”

“I’d say he’s to die for.”

“Those emerald eyes!”

“Can you imagine being known as Lady Rolfe? You might even get to have your own lady’s maid rather than being a maid yourself. Oh, think of it, Yvette!”

Mrs. Spurling fervently agreed. “Yes, love, think of your future!”

“He’s rich  _ and _ humble. Do you have any idea how rare a combination that is?”

“And so brave! He nearly got himself shot by that wretched governor to save our lives!”

Pocahontas froze solid, forgetting her anger for the moment. She pushed her way into the crowd of young women and addressed the one who spoke last. It was a black-haired girl who looked to be no more than fourteen. All the girls stopped talking and turned to peer at her. “Excuse me, what did you just say about John Rolfe almost getting shot?”

“It’s true!” Yvette proclaimed with mild fervor. “Miss Pocahontas, I saw it with my own eyes! John Rolfe called a town meeting to depose Governor West. Well, the governor did not like that one bit so he showed up with a pistol and shot at Lord Rolfe! Fortunately, he missed and hit the wine barrels that Lord Rolfe was standing on instead. It was terrifying! Any of us could have been hit by a bullet. That horrible man is in jail now though.”

“Thank the Lord God no one was hurt!” the black-haired girl cried.

As the girls launched themselves into a discussion of how brave and noble Lord John Rolfe was, Pocahontas knitted her brows in anger. All she could think about was how she wanted to throttle the former governor for nearly killing the man she loved. All of the girls went silent very suddenly and Pocahontas intuitively knew it was because said gentleman had returned. She growled slightly in her throat and rounded on Rolfe. “John, these girls tell me that you almost got shot by the governor. Is this true?”

Carrying two beverages, Rolfe appeared startled by the angry tone in Pocahontas’s voice. “I-I… Well, you see, it’s…” Thinking he was going to be scolded, he bowed his head.

“This allegedly happened days ago and you forgot to mention it,” Pocahontas added.

John Rolfe nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry, Pocahontas. I’ve been so preoccupied. Plus, I did not want to scare you. I know how you worry over such things.” He chortled lightly, trying to find humor in the situation. “If you must know, I nearly got shot twice through all this. I was shot at when I first approached Jamestown because the idiot soldiers who were busy guarding the walls at the time mistook me for a warrior from your village. He missed me by just two feet. Honestly, these last few days have been very frustrating for me.”

Pocahontas only frowned. “Where is the jail that the former governor is being held in? I intend to have a word with him right away,” she decreed. “This was all his fault!”

John Rolfe shrugged. “Not much of a point in that, I’m afraid. The man’s been deposed and disgraced. Plus, he is facing the prospect of punishment for his crimes in London.”

“If you do get a word in with him, spit on him for me!” the black-haired girl asserted.

“Temperance, don’t say such awful things!” Mrs. Spurling scolded. “It’s ill-mannered. A well-bred lady is above such things as spitting on people, even if they richly deserve it!”

Temperance flushed. “Sorry, ma’am.”

John Rolfe handed Pocahontas her glass of water. “There you go, my dear. Think no more on the wretched subject. We have stopped the conflict and made peace. All that is left to do is celebrate and live our lives. Why dwell on such unpleasant topics as corrupt former governors?” Rolfe held up his wine glass and clinked it against her water glass. “Cheers!”

Pocahontas shrugged. “Cheers, I guess,” she replied, sounding peeved. The Powhatan princess doubted she would be satisfied until she got a chance to chew Thomas West out face-to-face. She took a swig from her glass of water, immediately relieving her thirst.

“That’s the spirit, Lord Rolfe!” Mrs. Spurling lauded. “That nasty governor won’t be bothering us any longer. We’d have all starved to death under his ghastly leadership!”

Temperance blinked. “Who is to be in charge now that Baron West is out of office?”

John Rolfe had a pensive look. “The officials and I’ll have to select an interim governor until a new one can be appointed by King James. Don’t you worry though. We’ll pick someone who is going to be responsible and supervise him closely to ensure he is.”

Pocahontas, John Rolfe, and the women stood around chatting until the former two had finished their beverages. Pocahontas suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Samuel Quincy. The Powhatan princess was very pleased to see him looking well. “Pocahontas, my dear, how are you enjoying the festivities?” he inquired in a warm greeting.

“Oh, it’s been wonderful!” Pocahontas replied, turning to face him.

“Glad to hear it. Say, I’ve tired my wife out and she’s gone to take a break. Would you like to join me on the dance floor for a bit? Hannah won’t mind,” he proposed.

“I’d love to,” Pocahontas returned.

Pocahontas took Samuel’s hand and they walked off. Meanwhile, Rolfe had finished his wine. He turned to Yvette, whose pale face immediately became an inferno. “Shall we, Miss Spurling? The feast will be served soon. Best catch a dance while we can.”

John Rolfe offered an arm for Yvette to take and she accepted it shyly. All her friends looked excited for her and jealous at the same time as she walked off as his escort. On the dance floor, the beat was fast. Yvette was unsteady at first but soon fell into rhythm with Rolfe’s lead. Pocahontas skipped by them with Samuel, both shouting and laughing up a storm. Rolfe was smiling. Before Yvette knew it, she was having more fun than she ever recalled having before in her life. And it ended all too soon when the dinner bell rang.

Everyone headed for the dining room. Pulling back from Yvette, Rolfe clapped his hands to get the partygoers’ attention. “Ahem, ahem! Ladies and gents, I beg you to recall we’re to say grace out here first  _ before _ we go in. That way we can get right down to eating. Now, please, bow your heads and pray with me,” Rolfe directed the crowd. Everyone did as he requested and he led them in a quick prayer. “Dear Lord, we’d like to thank and honor you for providing this exquisite winter feast. In a year that could easily have been characterized by famine and death, you have come through for us like a shining star. A beacon of hope has been granted to us by you this fine Christmas Day and I’m sure we can agree that it’s not to be taken for granted. Please continue to bestow your blessings upon us as we will do our best to follow the example of your son, Jesus Christ. Amen.”

“Amen,” echoed the settlers.

The doors to the dining room swung open and John Rolfe beckoned everyone inside. The feast was very appreciated by all the attendees. There were roast turkeys with gravy, mince pies, potato mash, and dozens of other dishes to warm the partygoers’ bellies. Though everyone had to limit their eating, no one was hungry by the time it was over. Not a scrap of food remained yet the settlers were satisfied. Next, it was time for Rolfe to bestow the Christmas tree, candles upon each glowing bow, with a beautiful silver angel right on the top branch. The Yule log was added to the fireplace and Rolfe led a big group of young people in a game of charades as others stood or sat around conversing.

The children loved the charades. Other games were played as well until the time grew late. John Rolfe brought the whole town together for some Christmas prayers and then sent the children to open their stockings in the sitting room. The town hall could not have been noisier as little ones ran around screaming and playing with their new toys. The youngest children, generally under age six, were sent home to play and then go to bed. The older children, adolescents, and adults stayed to listen to the story of the nativity scene. It was the story of Jesus Christ’s birth as only John Rolfe could tell it. Though yawning from the long night, everyone was entranced by his tale as snow fell through the large window behind the illuminated Christmas tree. After the story was over, the great festivities were concluded and everyone went home for a long winter’s nap.


	5. A Heart of Ice

**DECEMBER 26, 1613**

The weather was much colder and windier the day after Christmas. Pocahontas curled into a cozy armchair by the drawing room chimney, a hot fire raging within to keep them warm. It was almost evening and the Powhatan woman had spent the short winter’s day with John Rolfe in the town hall dictating her tribe’s tales for him as she sewed some new buckskin clothing for the coming year. Meeko was getting into some mischief on a really high bookshelf, but, fortunately, his hummingbird friend was keeping an eye on him.

“Guyapi is a great hero of Powhatan myth, a half-mortal man who is the son of Good Okeus and a mortal woman of the First World by immaculate conception. He was born a good brother to a bad twin by the name of Malsoom, or Snake. Before they were born, the two brothers discussed amongst themselves how best to enter the world. Guyapi declared, ‘I shall be born as others are.’ But the wicked Malsoom thought himself too great to be brought forth in such a common manner and declared that he would burst through his mother’s side instead. As they planned it, so it came to pass. Guyapi came first the normal way, while Malsoom kept his word and killed their mother by bursting through her abdominal wall,” Pocahontas recounted, tying off another stitch.

John Rolfe tapped his lower lip with the feathered end of his quill, a thoughtful look about his face. “Interesting. Very interesting indeed. I don’t recall Eustace and I ever having any such intelligent discussions until some years after our birth,” Rolfe jested, flashing the Powhatan princess a teasing grin before jotting down her words.

Pocahontas laughed. “You and Eustace are human, John. Guyapi and Malsoom were not,” she retorted, greatly amused by John Rolfe’s silly remark. “Anyway, as I was saying…”

_ The two brothers brought themselves up together. One day, they were testing their strength against one another. Guyapi always came out on top, which made Malsoom envious. In jest, Malsoom asked Guyapi what could kill him. Each had his own secret as to this. Guyapi, remembering how capriciously Malsoom had slain their mother, thought it would be misplaced confidence to trust his life to someone so fond of death. _

_ Yet, at the same time, Guyapi realized it would be good to know the one weakness of his wicked twin. So Guyapi and Malsoon agreed to exchange secrets. Guyapi, to test his brother, told Malsoom that the only way he could be slain was by the stroke of an owl’s feather—though this was, in fact, a lie. By appearing honest, Guyapi tricked Malsoom into admitting to his own weakness, that he could only die by a blow from a fern-root. _

_ It is said that the evil in Malsoom tempted him to kill Guyapi. According to legend, all men were wild and wicked in those days—before the Reimagining. So taking his bow and arrow, Malsoom killed an owl. He used one of the dead owl’s feathers to strike Guyapi in his sleep. Guyapi awoke in anger, yet he insidiously said to Malsoom that it was not by an owl’s feather but by a great blow from a pine-root that his life would end instead. _

_ Later, Guyapi led Malsoom into the forest to hunt. While he slept that night, Malsoom smote him on the head with a pine-root. But Guyapi arose unharmed and drove Malsoom into the woods. Guyapi sat down by a brook, bothered by his brother’s actions. Thinking of what had happened, he said to himself, “Nothing but a flowering rush can end me.” _

_ Beaver, hidden among the reeds, overheard this. He went to Malsoom and told him the secret of his brother’s demise. For this favor, Malsoom had promised to bestow a wish on Beaver. But when Beaver wished for wings, Malsoom laughed and scornfully spoke, “Move along. You with a tail like a file, what need have you of wings?” Beaver was angry, so he went to the camp of Guyapi and told the good brother what had transpired. _

_ Guyapi rose in sorrow and anger. He took a fern-root and sought out Malsoom in the forest. Once he found him, he smote him such that he fell down dead. Guyapi sang a song over the body of his brother and lamented. According to this legend, Malsoom’s body was transformed into a great mountain to the far north. By tribal law, it is forbidden for anyone to go near that mountain—which we call Malsoomsis. Furthermore, it has been said Malsoom will rise again. But this will not happen until the last days when Guyapi and the forces of good are to do battle with all the giants and great beasts of olden times. _

“Hm,” John Rolfe uttered as Pocahontas finished her tale.

Pocahontas smiled. “Hm what?”

“I’ve noticed many of your legends have striking similarities to mythology from other parts of the world, including Biblical tales. I was just thinking…” he uttered, tapering off at the end. He shook his head. “No, never mind. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not sure what to make of it yet. It is fascinating though, don’t you think?”

Pocahontas nodded. “Perhaps there’s a universal truth out there that could be revealed only by studying all the legends from all the people all over the world,” she speculated.

“But that would be a mighty task!” John Rolfe exclaimed.

Pocahontas smiled. “Much too big for any one man, I am sure. But you could get the process started. You are different from every other person I have ever met, John. I hope you know that is one of the reasons I love you. You have a curiosity about the world to match mine. One which won’t allow you to discard things that don’t make sense to you. I have told these legends to others in Jamestown, only to have them mocked and rejected as blatant falsehoods. Most of the settlers have done so without even trying to understand them, which is why I gave up trying to share my people’s stories with the settlers.”

“People who do that, as Mum always said, are allergic to thinking.”

Pocahontas and John Rolfe echoed each other’s laughter for a moment. “Well, that is the end of the story of Guyapi’s origins,” Pocahontas concluded. “The next story is about how he conquered Aglebemu, the Great Bullfrog, and created all aquatic creatures.”

John Rolfe took a fresh parchment from the pile on his desk, inking his quill. “Go on,” he encouraged, jotting the story description at the top. “I think I remember this from our trip before Captains Crude and Lame showed up. Aglebemu was a chief, right?”

Pocahontas giggled. “That’s right,” she confirmed. “The story goes like this…”

_ In times of old, there was a village hidden away in the mountains and little known to other men. The dwellers therein were very comfortable: the men hunted daily, the women foraged, and all went well in all ways. The village was by a brook which was the only source of water in the land. There was not a single drop of water in all the country around, save perhaps a couple of rain puddles every now and then. No one there had ever found even a spring. These people were fond of good water. The brook was of superior quality and they loved it. But, after a time, they began to observe that the brook was beginning to run low—not in the summertime but in the autumn even after the rains. Day by day, it diminished until its bed was as dry as a dead bone in the ashes of a warm fire. _

_ It was said that far away up in the land where no one of the village had ever been, there was upon this very stream yet another village. But of what manner the people were who dwelt therein, no one had a clue. And, thinking these people of the upper country might be in some way concerned with the drought, the villagers sent one of their number to go and look into the matter. The man they sent traveled three days before he came to the village in the upper country. And there he found that a dam had been raised across the brook so that no water could pass. It was all kept in a lake. He asked the people why they had made this mischief since the dam was of no apparent use to them. They bade him go and see their chief by whose orders the dam had been built in the first place. _

_ When the traveler came to see the chief, lo, there lay lazily in the mud a creature who was more of a monster than a man, though he sported a vaguely human form. His name was Chief Aglebemu, which means ‘enormous’ in the ancient tongue. For he was immense to measure like a giant and fat, bloated, and brutal to behold. His great yellow eyes bulged from his head like pine-knots, his mouth stretched almost from ear to ear, and he had two skinny feet with long toes. Exceedingly bizarre was this being. The messenger complained to this monster, who at first said nothing. Then he croaked and replied in a low bellow: _

_ “Do as you choose, _

_ Do as you choose, _

_ Do as you choose. _

_ What do I care? _

_ What do I care? _

_ What do I care? _

_ If you want water, _

_ If you want water, _

_ If you want water, _

_ Go somewhere else.” _

_ The messenger described the suffering of his people, who were dying of thirst. This seemed to please Aglebemu, who grinned at him. At last, he rose and made a spring to the dam. He bored a hole with a rock so that some water trickled out. Then he bellowed: _

_ “Up and begone! _

_ Up and begone! _

_ Up and begone!” _

_ So the man departed, little comforted. He came to his home and, for a few days, there was a little bit of water in the brook. But this soon stopped and there was great suffering in the village again. These people were in a sorry situation, for it is a bad thing to have no clean water to drink. The great Guyapi, who knew all that was passing in the hearts of men and beasts, took note of this. When Guyapi willed it, he was amongst them. For he ever came as the wind comes, swiftly and with little warning ahead of time. _

_ Just before Guyapi came, the men had resolved in council to send the boldest warrior amongst them to certain death to the village which had built the dam that withheld the water. The champion was to get them to cut down the dam or do something desperate. To this intent, he should go heavily armed and sing his death-song as he traveled. _

_ Guyapi was pleased, for he loved a brave man. He arrived among them looking brutish. In all the land, there was not one who seemed half so mighty. He was ten feet tall with a hundred red and black feathers in his scalp-lock. His face was painted like fresh blood with green rings around his eyes, a large shell hung from each ear, and a spread eagle flapped its wings from the back of his neck. As he strode into the village, hearts quaked. They admired him and the women all said they had never seen aught so lovely. _

“This gives me an idea,” John Rolfe suddenly remarked, interrupting the story.

Pocahontas raised a brow. “What’s that?”

The English gentleman grinned. “I really admire your detailed descriptions. You make it so easy to imagine what the characters in your stories would actually look like. I’m thinking it might be fun for me to try illustrating some of these stories later on before I publish them into a bound book. What do you think?” he inquired, hoping for approval.

Pocahontas’s eyes widened. “That’s a great idea! I’d love to see how you interpret these characters and transform them into visual images for others to look at. I think it’d be a lot of fun to watch you while you work on the drawings or at least to see the results.”

“I won’t mind as long as you don’t stand over me and cast a shadow,” John Rolfe replied.

Pocahontas grinned. “I think I can handle that. Anyway, as I was saying…”

_ Guyapi, having heard the whole story, bade them to be of good cheer and declared that he would soon set all to rights. Without delay, he started up the bed of the brook. Coming to the town, he sat down and bade a boy to bring him water to drink. The boy replied that no water could be had in the village unless it was given out by the chief. “Go to the chief then,” ordered Guyapi, “and bid him hurry or, truly, I will know the reason why.” Guyapi got no answer from the chief for more than an hour, during which time he sat on a big log and smoked his pipe. Eventually, the boy returned with a small cup which was not even half full of very dirty water. So Guyapi arose and said to the boy, “I will go and see your chief and I think he will soon give me better water than this,” he decreed. _

_ Going to Aglebemu, he demanded, “Give me to drink that of the best, you thing of mud!” _

_ But the chief reviled him and replied, “Move on to find water where you can.” _

_ Then Guyapi thrust a spear into Aglebemu’s belly and lo! there gushed forth a huge mighty river. Guyapi, rising high as a giant pine, caught the chief in his hand and crumpled in his back with a mighty grip. And lo! Aglebemu turned into the bullfrog that we all know today. So Guyapi hurled him with contempt into the stream to follow the current. Ever since that time, the bullfrog’s back has had crumpled wrinkles around the lower part. They are the prints of Guyapi’s awful squeeze, which created the creature. _

_ Guyapi returned to the formerly parched village. But there he found no people. A marvelous thing had come to pass during his absence—a thing which shall be heard about in every speech throughout the ages. The men, being simple folk, did as boys do when they are hungry and say unto one another, “What would you like to eat?” _

_ “Truly, I’d be pleased with a slice of hot venison dipped in maple sugar and bear’s oil.” _

_ “Nay, give me for my share succotash and honey.” _

_ Even so, in the case of these villagers, the men had said to each other, “Suppose that you had all the cool clean water there is in the whole world. What would you do then?” _

_ One individual said he would live in the soft mud and always be wet and cool. Another said he would plunge from the stones and take headers, diving into the deep water and drinking as he went. A third said he would be washed up and down with the rippling waves, living on the land yet ever in the water. A fourth said, “None of you know how to wish, but I’ll teach you. I’d live in the water all the time and swim about in it forever.” _

_ All these things were spoken in the magical hour which, when it passes over the world, all wishes uttered by men are granted. So it was with these men. For the first became a leech, the second a spotted frog, the third a crab, which is washed up and down with the tide, and the fourth a fish. Before this, there had been in all the world none of these things that dwell in the water. Now, there were and of all kinds. The water came rushing and roaring on. They went headlong to the sea to be washed into lands all over the world. _

John Rolfe did not say a word until he had finished the story to the very end. Then he dropped his quill and heaved a sigh of relief. “All this writing’s making my hand ache,” Rolfe noted, flexing his fingers. He organized the pages and put them away.

“You should probably take a break then. You’ve been writing all day,” she replied.

John Rolfe stood up and plopped down on the sofa, stretching his legs out in front of him and his arms behind his head. Meeko hopped into his lap unexpectedly, giving the diplomat a great start. “Meeko!” Rolfe chided as the raccoon curled up to take a nap. He sighed and scratched his own stomach, which then rumbled loudly. “I’m hungry.”

“Mrs. Quincy will be calling us for dinner very soon, I’m sure,” Pocahontas pointed out.

John Rolfe smiled. He and Pocahontas talked about frivolous things for the next hour until they were called to the Quincy residence for dinner. For the next few days, they passed their time in this exact same manner. Pocahontas told stories and the Englishman wrote them down. All the while, Pocahontas was busy sewing or beading.

**DECEMBER 29, 1613**

The one day that had fair weather was December 29th. Pocahontas, John Rolfe, Meeko, Percy, and Flit were outside with the town’s children as they played and frolicked in the snow. The cold returned later that evening with freezing rain, but good news came from Werowocomoco. Kekata had successfully extracted the bullet from the leg of Namontack. Pocahontas and the Quincy girls made a blueberry pie as a get-well gift for the invalid and sent it back to the village with the Powhatan messenger before nightfall.

**JANUARY 1, 1614**

It was not until the New Year that the extremely heavy snowfall started again. It was as the Powhatans had predicted. The snow flurries were thick in the air, so thick it was hard to get from building to building. No one dared try to leave the settlement. Not wanting to make Pocahontas venture outside in the cold, John Rolfe dressed himself in his buckskin winter clothes and fought his way through the snow drifts to get to the Quincys’ house. It was there that they continued their storytelling and crafts since it would have been far too difficult for them both to get to the town hall during the terrible winter storms.

**FEBRUARY 3, 1614**

The heavy snow came down and down for over a month. On most nights, the air was cold enough to crack rocks and split trees right down the middle. Families needed to huddle by their hearths for warmth. Food supplies were dwindling slowly, so everyone conserved as much as they could and prayed that the next ship would come in early. Blizzards became violent and frequent. Some nights, Pocahontas could feel her body freeze in bed from just listening to the icy winds outside. Some days, the sun never seemed to rise at all.

The snow piled higher and higher, ten feet in some places. Snow reached the tops of buildings by early February. Because the men could not keep up with the shoveling, John Rolfe was forced to use snowshoes when he came to visit her at the Quincys’ home. Front doors and lower-level windows were covered with snow, so he had to climb out of a higher-level window at the inn just to escape from the snowed-in building.

**FEBRUARY 25, 1614**

The English gentleman came to visit Pocahontas one evening in late February, having been unable to get to the Quincy residence earlier due to a frighteningly violent blizzard. When he entered the house, he found Pocahontas, Rebeccah, Samuel, Percy, Meeko, and Flit all loafing around by the bright burning hearth. Mrs. Quincy, busy cooking supper, was the only one doing anything at all, yet even she moved in a lethargic fashion. All in all, everyone looked to be suffering from a bad case of the late winter blues.

John Rolfe greeted them all with a smile as he removed his coat. Mrs. Quincy hung it up for him. “You all look sad,” Rolfe noted, gazing from person to person to animal.

Pocahontas sighed and folded her legs into her chest, hugging her knees. “This winter just feels so long. We haven’t seen the sun in weeks. Sometimes, I fear it’ll never rise again.”

Rebeccah nodded and sighed. Samuel stretched his legs. “I miss the sun,” he admitted.

“Don’t be silly!” John Rolfe declared in a jolly tone. He removed all his winter wear and walked over to Pocahontas, plopping down beside her at the hearth. “The sun rises even on days when we can’t see it. I know this winter seems long, but it won’t last forever.”

Pocahontas just groaned. “We might still have a month of this left though.”

Rebeccah collapsed on the floor and covered her face with her hands. “Ugh! I can’t take another month of this. Maybe a week or two but not a whole month!” she grumbled.

“I hear you,” Pocahontas agreed. She collapsed next to Rebeccah and groaned again.

John Rolfe snorted. “Oh, come, you two,” he gently chided. “I’ll bet the spring will bloom all the more beautifully this year because of how cold it is right now. Anyway, forget the weather. I have some ideas that I wanted to tell you about, Pocahontas.”

Pocahontas perked up, desperate for any kind of stimulation. She sat up and gazed at him. “Okay, John. What is it?” she replied, narrowing her eyes. “It had better be interesting.”

John Rolfe looked insulted. “Or you’ll what?” he retorted teasingly. “Anyway, I just learned Jamestown has no schoolhouse. I found out that most of the townspeople here are illiterate and the numbers are even worse among the children. I learned all of this from Mr. Couper when I proposed putting up a billboard with weekly news for the settlers, but he told me very few would even be able to read it. So I am apparently super naive for not knowing that. Anyway, I came here partly because I wanted to ask you who in town here taught you to read and write, Pocahontas. Whoever it was did an excellent job and I was hoping to find a decent candidate to become a school teacher this coming year.”

Pocahontas smiled. “I was taught by Alexander and Rachel Whitaker. They arrived a year after the colony was founded and taught me so much in such a short period of time.”

John Rolfe raised his eyebrows. “Alexander the church minister?” he asked. Pocahontas nodded. “Ah, I’ll have to make a note to speak with him in church tomorrow or Sunday. I want to talk to some literate folks about the possibility of building a schoolhouse.”

Mrs. Quincy came over. After getting to know each other over the winter months, John Rolfe and Samuel and Hannah Quincy had come to be on a first name basis with each other. “John, there is no schoolhouse because most children around here have had too many chores to do in the recent past to find time for school. It was particularly bad when Governor West was in office. He charged us an arm and a leg for our tiny rations. We adults were not able to earn enough money to feed our families by ourselves. The little ones had to work as well and help out. And it takes a ton of work to keep this here settlement running. Usually, it’s just the tots with literate parents who have the chance to learn how to read and write, like Rebeccah here. If your mum or dad can’t teach you something, you just don’t learn it around here. Girls usually learn how to run a household and boys learn their father’s trade to support their future families,” Hannah explained.

“Do you think families might make time for learning now that the storehouse is not charging anymore?” Rolfe inquired. “I mean, what if some boys don’t like their father’s trade? Maybe they have other interests. A literate fellow has so many more opportunities in life and chances for social advancement. We owe it to our children to give them the best, do we not? Maybe we can reorganize things around here to make time for school.”

“Will you educate the girls as well?” Pocahontas asked.

John Rolfe raised his brows. “Sure, why not? Not all men like ignorant women. I know I don’t. Besides, it’s possible some girls might not even want to become housewives and/or mothers. Though I admit I’ve never met a lady who did not want children, such a thing is theoretically possible. This is a new world. Everyone should have freedom to choose.”

Pocahontas, Samuel, Hannah, and Rebeccah all smiled. “It is good to hear you say that, John. I agree. Every person should have a choice,” Pocahontas expressed.

“If anyone can make this school thing happen, it’s you, my friend,” Samuel remarked.

Hannah was beaming. “You’ve earned our faith in you, good sir, and much more.”

John Rolfe reflected their dispositions. “So I have all of your support?”

They all nodded.

The Englishman looked excited. “I hope I’m not getting too terribly ahead of myself, but I would just love to build a library as well. But we need the schoolhouse first, of course, or very few will be able to enjoy the library. I want it to be a library for the people, for everyone. And I will publish books of my own to go into said library. I’ll also order all of the classics from England, the ancient philosophers, etc. Honestly, I really can’t wait!”

Samuel had both eyebrows raised. “John, you really are a visionary.”

“We’re lucky to have you,” chimed Rebeccah.

“Thank you, I appreciate all your sentiments. He turned his attention toward Pocahontas, who seemed very excited for him. “Pocahontas, I brought some parchment so that we can continue your stories. I thought you might also like to help me brainstorm ideas for these plans of mine. I would love your input and your participation if you’re willing.”

Rebeccah looked interested too. “I’d love to hear some more stories.”

Pocahontas sat up properly, crossing her legs and straightening her back. “But this is one you’ve already heard, Rebeccah. You’re welcome to listen in again though.”

“I don’t mind hearing the same stories again!” Rebeccah replied, looking interested.

John Rolfe set his writing equipment up on the nearby dinner table and got himself in position to write. “Alright, my dear. I’m ready. You know the routine. What’s the title?”

Pocahontas opened her mouth to begin another tale when, all of a sudden, a male scream was heard from outside over the winds.  _ “Help! Please, someone, help me! I need help!” _

John Rolfe and Pocahontas jumped to their feet. They looked at each other and rushed to the window through which Rolfe had climbed to get inside. The Englishman shoved the window up and open and they both stuck their heads outside into the bitter cold. “Hello!” both of them called in unison, shivering from the frigid air temperatures.

“Help!” came the voice again. They could not see whoever it was from the window, so John Rolfe rushed to get his winter wear back on. Pocahontas and Rolfe put on their snow pants and coats, boots and mittens, scarves and hats, and crawled out the window one after the other. Rolfe tied the snowshoes to his boots and started to stomp the snow down for Pocahontas to follow. The noise seemed to be coming from the direction of the constable’s office. It was just a few houses down. Nobody else had come outside yet to see to the pleas, but there were many curious heads poking out of open windows.

“Hello!” John Rolfe called out. “Who’s there?” When he rounded a corner of a house by the constable’s office, a figure came into view crumpled on the ground. Pocahontas, who was right behind Rolfe, gasped at the sight. There was blood on the snow. “I’m coming! Help has arrived. Don’t panic. What has happened here?” inquired the gentleman.

“Please, help! It hurts!” cried the poor man who was not even dressed for the icy weather. “He attacked me! He attacked me like a savage beast!” It looked like he had just crawled out the upper window of the constable’s office and slid down the sloping roof to escape the building. When the hurt man looked up, John Rolfe recognized him as the Jamestown constable, Nathaniel Powell. He tried weakly to push himself up from the snow.

Pocahontas and John Rolfe rushed over to examine the injured man, who was lying on his belly with his upper torso propped up on one arm in the snow. The other arm, he cradled to his chest. The gentleman saw his forearm was bloodied. The diplomat knelt down and tore back the man’s sleeve, causing him to cry out in pain again. It looked like a wolf or something had bitten the man’s right forearm. “Goodness!” Rolfe exclaimed.

“He bit me! I was just bringing him his bread and water,” the constable said through chattering teeth. “He grabbed hold of my arm and bit me like a wild animal! Who even does that? He’s more of a monster than a man, I tell you! See for yourself!”

“Who?” Pocahontas and John Rolfe asked in unison as they helped the man to his feet.

“Thomas West!”

Pocahontas and John Rolfe froze, exchanging alarmed gazes. The gentleman shook his head clear. “Alright, we need to get you to Dr. Henry Leach’s house. It’s so cold out here. Don’t worry about West, I’ll see to him. Right now, we need to get you to safety and get you some medical treatment, okay?” John Rolfe said in a soothing manner. He took off his coat and wrapped it around Nathaniel Powell’s quivering shoulders.

Just then, Samuel Quincy, after dressing himself in warm winter wear, caught up with them. “Let me help him, John. Pocahontas and I can take him to the doc. You see what’s going on in the constable’s office there, but be careful!” Samuel warned.

“Alright! Thanks, Sam,” John Rolfe said, helping Samuel to pull Nathaniel Powell’s uninjured arm over his shoulders for support. “You’ll be alright, constable.”

“Be careful!” Nathaniel cried. “Don’t get anywhere near him! He’s possessed, I tell you!”

John Rolfe nodded. “I won’t. I will be careful.”

Trembling, John Rolfe hugged himself as Samuel and Pocahontas marched Nathaniel Powell off in the direction of the doctor’s office. He turned toward the constable’s office and plodded over. The front door and lower windows were much too covered with snow, so the English diplomat had to climb up the slope of the roof and crawl into the window through which the poor constable had escaped, kicking off his snowshoes.

John Rolfe crawled inside clumsily and landed atop a bedded loft. The linens were very bloody as expected. It was toasty warm inside from the hearth burning bright on the far side of the interior chamber. The diplomat turned around and closed the window behind him to shut out the chill, which was far too severe for him since he had given his coat to the injured constable. “Hello?” John Rolfe called out. He figured the jail cell had to be right below his current location. The first thing he heard was a low wolf-like snarl.

The Englishman was stunned. The man could not really be possessed, could he? Rolfe spotted a narrow staircase built into the wall to his left. He rose to his feet and crept over to it, slowly descending the steps. As he looked back, the bars of the jail cell came into view. “Thomas West? Are you there? It’s John Rolfe.” He got to the bottom of the stairs and peered back in the corner that was beneath the staircase. A man who resembled the former governor was leaning up against the corner. The main difference between him and West was that this man was about half the size of West, girth-wise. His once-fine clothes hung off of his frame. Yet still, he remained about twice John Rolfe’s size. He was still technically overweight, but that is not what John Rolfe noticed most of all.

Indeed, it was the man’s face. He was pale as a ghost and his eyes were wide open and bloodshot. At first, John Rolfe thought he must be dead. “Oh no,” the diplomat spoke, internally sorrowful.  _ We shouldn’t have had him on such strict rations. It seems we have killed him. God forgive me. I only meant to do good here in Jamestown, _ he thought.

As the man appeared dead, John Rolfe lowered himself to his knees with the intention of praying for the deceased man’s soul. But just as he got in position and clasped his hands together, a venomous whispering voice growled,  _ “Snuff out the fire.” _

John Rolfe jumped up, gaping at the man in the corner. “Wh-what?” he peeped.

“Snuff out the fire!” Thomas West roared. “It’s too hot! I’m melting!”

The frightened Englishman stumbled backward, his back coming to rest against the wall beside the hearth. His pupils slowly turned leftward and peered down at the warm fire in the hearth. “Y-you want me to snuff it out? Won’t you freeze to death? It’s so cold out.”

“Snuff it!” demanded the ex-governor, jumping over his cot. He slammed the full weight of his body up against the bars of his prison cell, making them rattle. “Kill the fire!”

“Alright, alright!” returned the alarmed Englishman. He lit a few candles. Then he found a nearby wooden pail and a snow-covered window. He cracked the window open and filled the pail with snow. The snow, he threw over the fire. The flames of the fire crackled and hissed. John Rolfe repeated the action until the fire was dead in the hearth. The room became dimmer, the only remaining light being the candles the Englishman had lit.

He took one and cautiously approached the deposed governor, who was staring at him through the jail bars. West said nothing at first. “Now, get me something  _ decent _ to eat!” he demanded so suddenly that it caused the startled gentleman to jump back.

John Rolfe drew his brows together. “You are in absolutely no position to be giving out orders, sir. Maybe I’d be more generous with food if you hadn’t nearly starved my friends to death for reasons that are beyond a normal compassionate person’s comprehension. Now, why did you bite the constable? He says you are possessed and acting like a wild beast. Are you ill, perhaps? If you need a doctor’s attention, we’ve no right to deny such a request. If he says you are anemic, we might spare some beans to meet your physical needs. But you’ve no right to demand gourmet meals after what you’ve done to King James’s poor little colony in his absence. You can rest assured that he won’t be pleased with your actions. However, it is never too late for redemption. If you swear off your selfish ways and promise to make amends, I will gladly beseech our dear monarch for leniency on your behalf. What say you, Baron West? Do you wish to repent?”

The ex-governor did not break his stare the whole time that John Rolfe was speaking. It was to the point that the gentleman gradually became heavily disconcerted. When he had finished talking, no answer came from West’s lips at first. His soul-piercing glare only deepened, causing Rolfe to take a step back. Then Thomas West drew his lips back just enough to bare his teeth at the visitor. His canines gleamed and, in the dim light, appeared ever so slightly sharper than that of a normal human being’s. His teeth parted as he licked his lips, rubbing a canine with the tip of his tongue at the end.  _ “You look good enough to eat,” _ the ex-governor hissed in a bare whisper, looking John Rolfe up and down.

John Rolfe jerked backward in alarm, placing a hand to his chest.  _ “I-I beg your pardon?” _ he peeped, his forehead starting to sweat bullets in the jailed man’s presence.

Suddenly, the jailed baron jerked backward from the bars in a snarling rage. He seemed to go into a standing seizure for a moment before he howled and slammed his full weight into the iron bars again, causing them to rattle. John Rolfe cried out at the top of his lungs and made a beeline toward the stairwell to the loft. He scrambled up the steps, threw open the window, and slid down the sloping roof, landing in a pile of pillow-soft snow.

Forgetting Pocahontas’s snowshoes entirely, he headed right for Dr. Leach’s abode.

…

Pocahontas was leaning against the interior wall of Henry Leach’s residence. She and Samuel Quincy watched the doctor examine Nathaniel Powell’s arm. The bite mark was deep and bloody. Dr. Leach had asked the man if somebody’s dog had bitten him. Human bites rarely tended to be quite so injurious. Once the blood was washed off of Powell’s forearm, blood still oozed from the teeth marks. The forearm itself around the marks was a rainbow of black, purple, blue, and red shades. “It hurts really bad,” Powell indicated.

“I hear you, Constable Powell, but nonetheless I’m going to have to rinse the punctures with alcohol. Even in winter, you don’t want to risk something like this festering. It could be the end of you,” Dr. Leach warned, glancing at Samuel sitting at the dining table. The doctor pointed to a bottle of booze on the tabletop. “Could you bring that over, sir?”

Samuel nodded. “Yes, doctor.” He grabbed the bottle and carried it over to Dr. Leach, who accepted it. “Doctor, do you have any idea what could drive a grown man to attack another man in such a barbaric manner? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Good question,” returned Dr. Leach, getting some small pieces of clean linen out of a drawer on his examining table. “If anyone’s got the answer, I think it’d be the good constable himself. Constable Powell, what precisely went down before this savage attack occurred if you don’t mind me asking?” the doctor calmly inquired.

“Well, over the course of the last few weeks, I began to notice Thomas West was acting stranger and stranger. He won’t lie on his cot anymore, preferring to slump against the back corner of his cell while sleeping. He stays as far away from the jail bars as possible, except when receiving his meals. The man complains constantly that we are starving him to death, forgetting that’s what he tried to do to us first. In the past few days, he’s turned paler and paler. As I was giving him his meal earlier, I had been considering coming here to ask you to examine him. He is looking ill, I tell you. But I think it’s worse than that. I think he’s possessed. You see, it all went down like this. Earlier today, he looked to be sleeping in his usual corner. I didn’t say a word to him. I simply came over, opened the slot, and pushed his meal in there for him to eat. But he wasn’t as asleep as I thought because he lunged at me faster than a wild leopard. He reached through the slot, grabbed my hand, pulled it through, and sank his teeth into me like he was trying to tear…”

Nathaniel Powell had been right in the middle of his story when, all of a sudden, someone began beating on the door from the outside. “Let me in, let me in!” came the muffled cry.

Powell cried out. “He’s escaped, he has! He’s come after me to finish the job!”

Pocahontas shook her head. “No, that sounds like John Rolfe,” she said in alarm, running over to the door. “John, is that you?” she called through the thickness of the wood.

“Don’t let him in, don’t let him in!” Powell cried.

Nonetheless, Pocahontas unbolted the door and opened it. John Rolfe flooded into the room, immediately turning to slam the door shut and bolt the lock. “Powell’s right, the man’s gone mad! Mad, I tell you! Doctor, you’ll need to examine him,” the gentleman insisted, his face white as the snow outside. He was also trembling terribly.

“John, you’re paler than a ghost! What’s happened?” Pocahontas exclaimed, turning the Englishman toward her. She examined him from top to bottom. “Did he bite you too?”

John Rolfe shook his head. “No, but I’m pretty sure he wanted to!” He then turned his attention toward the doctor. “Sir, what are the chances that the man could be possessed by one of Satan’s minions? I’m telling you, the look of him is ghoulish at best!”

Henry Leach’s face looked somewhat alarmed. “You’d have to speak to a priest about that. I’m only an expert on earthly illnesses,” the doctor quickly admitted.

Pocahontas had a worried but thoughtful look on her face. “May I go see him?”

John Rolfe gently grabbed her shoulders, fervently shaking his head. “No, Pocahontas! The man is dangerous, even behind bars. I’d much prefer if you didn’t go anywhere near him. But if you know someone who might be able to help… Wait…” Rolfe paused, appearing to get an idea. “Pocahontas, do you think I could speak with you in private at the town hall real quick?” He glanced toward Samuel. “We’ll be back later.”

“Of course,” Pocahontas replied, turning to put her winter wear back on. “John, where are my snowshoes?” she inquired, noticing that he did not appear to have them.

“I forgot them outside the constable’s office. We can pick them up on the way to the town hall, but we are  _ not _ going inside. Understand?” John Rolfe insisted. Pocahontas’s eyes widened at his vehement insistence, but she finally nodded her head. “Good,” John Rolfe returned. “Now, let’s go. Hurry. This is a matter of grave importance.”

Dr. Leach, Constable Powell, and Samuel all exchanged odd looks with each other. “Lord Rolfe,” Dr. Leach announced, causing the gentleman to turn his attention toward him. “If the man is anemic, have him served some beans or meat. That oughta cure the problem. It might be possible that he will regain his senses if his nutritional needs are met. No need to give him anything tasty or lavish, just plain cooked beans with no seasoning.”

John Rolfe nodded. “Yes, sir. I thought that might do the trick. Come, Pocahontas.” Rolfe retrieved the heavy winter coat that he had lent to the poor constable. He opened the door to the chilly air outside and ushered Pocahontas out. Then he followed in her wake and poked his head back in before leaving. “Good luck, doctor.” Then they were gone.

…

Having retrieved Pocahontas’s snowshoes, she and Rolfe made it to the town hall just as another blizzard was starting. The town hall was closed to the public due to the terrible weather, so there was no one there when they got there, not even Francis Couper. It was so frigid inside the building. John Rolfe lit the hearth in the drawing room.

Pocahontas shivered. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about in private, John?”

“W-wait until it warms up in here,” he stuttered. “I can hardly talk while I’m shivering,” Once the temperature in the room rose a satisfactory amount, John Rolfe and Pocahontas sat down in a pair of plush armchairs. “So here’s the situation, Pocahontas. I hate to bring up the disturbing history from our travels, but you do remember the demon-possessed knife that I was attacked with, don’t you?” Pocahontas nodded. “Good. Now, I’m not experienced with or knowledgeable about such ungodly things to know what is going on with the ex-governor and I suspect you aren’t either. I remember you told me that Kekata in your village would know more. I know we’re in the worst of winter right now, but do you think there’s any way we could get a message to your village? I’m going to have both the doctor and the priest examine Thomas West. If neither of them are able to help him, then maybe your medicine man will have some trick up his sleeve. Do you think that’s a good idea?” the Englishman inquired, wanting her feedback on his idea.

Pocahontas blinked. “That might be wise, assuming neither the doctor nor priest are able to help. However, there is no way to get to my village. The powder drifts outside the colony probably reach almost all the way up to the fort walls by now. And with blizzards being so unpredictable, it would be much too dangerous for someone to venture out.”

John Rolfe scratched his chin as best he could with mitten-covered fingertips. “Do you think it would be too hazardous for even Meeko or Percy to deliver a message?”

“Even if it isn’t, I’m the only one in my village who has learned to read and write in English. No one would understand the message even if we sent one. And, honestly, I’d rather not send my animal friends out in this weather anyway. Even for a wild animal, this weather is hazardous,” Pocahontas admitted, watching as John Rolfe’s face fell.

The diplomat sat back in his chair and breathed in a huge sigh. “I’m just really worried. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. I really don’t want to go back into the constable’s office any more than I want anyone else to go there, but I’m afraid West will freeze or starve to death if no one does. He demanded that I snuff out the fire in the hearth while I was there. It must be totally frigid in there by now. He was acting like he was immune to the heat. I don’t understand it,” John Rolfe griped, rubbing his head.

“He… wanted you to snuff out the fire?” Pocahontas said hesitantly.

“Yes. I mean, he’s lost about half his body weight, but I suppose it’s possible that he’s still fat enough for his blubber to keep him warm. You ever notice how big people get overheated more often than slender people do? But this seems a little extreme.”

Some unfamiliar sentiment flashed in Pocahontas’s eyes as she started to look alarmed.

John Rolfe’s eyes widened. “What is it, love?”

Pocahontas shook her head.  _ “No, it couldn’t be. That’s impossible,” _ she uttered.

The Englishman blinked. “What’s impossible?”

“Nothing, John. Never mind. Do you want me to go to the kitchen and make you a hot drink?” the Powhatan princess inquired, rising to her feet all of a sudden.

John Rolfe frowned. “Wait, hold on just a minute. Yes, I’d love a hot drink, but what were you talking about just now? Sit down,” he insisted, reaching for her hand.

Pocahontas pulled back. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing. It just… the situation just reminded me of an old legend. Nobody thinks it’s true though. I can’t be.”

The Englishman’s face lit up. “I could get some parchment from the office.”

“No!” Pocahontas said with great fervor. “This is not that kind of legend. It’s a horror story. It’s very frightening. I can’t even begin to tell you how many nightmares it gave me as a child  _ and _ as an adult. Do you really want to hear a horror story like that, John?”

John Rolfe drew back, a worried look on his face. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he hated horror stories. “N-not really, no,” he admitted in a timid voice.

“Good, then let’s speak of something else. I’ll go make some tea,” Pocahontas declared, plodding off toward the kitchen. She left John Rolfe by the fire looking disconcerted.


	6. Building Bridges

“The blizzard doesn’t look like it’s going to let up any time soon. We can’t leave the governor in the constable’s office alone overnight. He will freeze,” John Rolfe finally decided, rising up from his seat. The Englishman did not dare to wait until after dark to extend Thomas West a visit.

Pocahontas immediately jumped up and grabbed his wrist. “John, you’re not going out there. The storm is far too violent. What happens to the ex-governor is his own fault after what he did to the constable,” the Powhatan princess argued. “Listen to the winds out there. You’ll never make it.”

John Rolfe appeared very worried indeed. “But I fear we’re sentencing him to death if I don’t do something, Pocahontas. Oh, this is just awful,” he declared, listening to the violent storm outside. Even in the well-built town hall, the battering storm made the walls and roof creak and rattle. He sighed. “Alright, love. I see your point, but I am venturing out the moment the storm lessens.”

“Fine, John,” Pocahontas conceded, “but not a moment before.”

“Agreed,” John Rolfe returned, sitting back down by the huge hearth. He bent over and threw another log onto the fire. “This has got to be the worst winter storm I have ever experienced. Imagine if we hadn’t made it back to Virginia yet and there was a storm like this,” he remarked.

“We would be frozen solid,” Pocahontas acknowledged.

John Rolfe poked at the fire and sighed. “I wonder why some winters are so harsh.”

Pocahontas sat back in her chair and shrugged. “I can’t say, but Kekata seems to think that harsh winters are needed to balance out mild winters,” she expressed, citing her one and only theory.

John Rolfe turned to the bay window. “I know they winterized those windows, but maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea for me to stuff some blankets in the crevices between the panes,” Rolfe proposed. The young Englishman carried out his idea, which barely made the room marginally warmer. It was just too big a chamber and they did not want to waste too much firewood.

Still fully dressed in their winter garb, Pocahontas and John Rolfe wrapped themselves in heavy blankets and fell asleep in their plush chairs by the fire. The latter woke up halfway through the night from a loud but distant cracking sound coming from outside. It was unclear if it was caused by thunder or by a tree getting split down the middle from the bitter cold. The room was frigid. It became immediately clear to the gentleman that the storm was not going to let up for some time.

The fire was almost dead in the hearth. John Rolfe realized they might be trapped in the town hall for some time. It only made sense to select a smaller and more central room, which would be easier to keep warm. The drawing room was the largest chamber in the building and keeping it warm during the terrible storm would be neither efficient nor practical for the two of them.

The smallest room in the building was the office on the ground floor. It had a nice big hearth as well and no windows to let in any cold. John Rolfe took a candle and lit it from the coals of the drawing-room fire, taking it to the office hearth. He lit a new fire therein and went in search of blankets and cushions for bedding. The Englishman set up a nice place to sleep right in front of the warm office fire and then he returned to the drawing room to find Pocahontas just beginning to rouse from the cold. She was shivering and John Rolfe could see her breath in the air.

“John, I’m so cold,” Pocahontas told him.

John Rolfe smiled in the dim light from the glowing hearth coals. “I know. It’s alright, love,” he said, hefting her up in his arms, blankets and all. “I’ve got a better place for us.” He brought her to the office and put her down on the bedding in front of the warm fire. Then he turned to shut the door behind them and insulated the crevices around the door as well as he could with linen. “Better?” John Rolfe inquired as Pocahontas sat up. She scooted nearer the fire, nodding.

Feeling awake, John Rolfe lit some more candles and placed them on the fine oak desk. He was oddly in the mood to write, but Pocahontas protested. “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

“In a bit,” John Rolfe replied. “I thought I’d pen more into my journals about our travels. When it got cold in the drawing room, it rather woke me up. I’m sure I’ll get sleepy again soon.”

Pocahontas nodded her head and turned her attention back to the blazing hearth. The cold had crept into her clothes, so she took the winter wear off and hung it all on the mantle to heat up as she warmed her cold little fingers by the flames. “I hope everyone else is doing alright. This is the best-constructed building in all of Jamestown and yet the winds make it creak. How well could all the other houses be holding up to the violence of the storm? It’s too bad the first settlers cut down all the trees. At least, in my village, there are enough trees around the buildings to provide a buffer from the winds. However, that can be a trade-off since trees can fall on houses,” Pocahontas expressed with a great sigh. “I guess I’m just worried about everyone.”

“I am too,” John Rolfe replied, preparing parchment and ink. He had to thaw the think over the fire in order to use it. “I admit I prayed for them earlier before I fell asleep.”

**FEBRUARY 28, 1614**

The blizzard continued unabated for three days and nights. Pocahontas and John Rolfe were trapped in the town hall for all that time. It was not until the morning of the 28th of February that the snow and wind finally stopped. The world fell as still and silent as a sleeping child. By the time that happened, Jamestown was covered. John Rolfe was forced to open a window on the roof over Thomas West’s former bedroom. Snow fell into the room and Pocahontas swept it all aside. Rolfe had to dig his way out. Once he had reached the surface, Pocahontas handed him her snowshoes through the hole he had dug. He stood up and peered around. “Pocahontas, I can’t see any buildings. The only way you’d know anything is here is because of the smoke holes in the snow from all the chimneys. It’s bizarre. Can you find a shovel? I need to dig the people out of their homes as soon as possible,” the British gentleman expressed, peeking down at her.

“Yes, I’ll go look. There’s probably something in the cellar,” Pocahontas replied. She found him what looked like a garden shovel. It was not very wide, but it would have to do. “I’m going to find something to make another pair of snowshoes out of. I’ll be out to help as soon as I can.”

“Thanks, love!” John Rolfe returned. Then he stood up straight, positioned himself facing the northeast, and started walking as he tried to guesstimate the distance from the town hall to the Quincy family home. The process took ten minutes, but John Rolfe thought he had found it. He untied his boots from the snowshoes and lowered himself down on his knees by the smoke hole that he hoped led to the chimney of the Quincy residence. He peered down, but he got nothing but smoke in his face, unable to see anything. “Hm,” he thought aloud. Next, he cupped his hands to the sides of his face and called down into the hole. “Hannah! Rebeccah! Are you two down there?” the gentleman bellowed. He turned his head and put his ear to the hole.

“Lord John Rolfe, is that you?!” came the muffled voice of the Quincy daughter.

“Yes, your home is completely buried. I’m calling to you down the chimney,” Rolfe returned. “Are you alright, my dear? How is your mother?” the diplomat hurriedly inquired.

“Mummy is okay, but we ran out of food yesterday! We’re hungry!”

John Rolfe felt relieved. “Not to worry, young miss. I’ll go get you something to eat right away from the governor’s mansion and then we’ll start digging out the storehouse. It looks like I was the first one to dig myself out of the snow. Nobody else is up here yet except for me.”

“You’ll bring us food?” came the voice of Mrs. Quincy. “Thank you so much!”

“Certainly, Hannah! Not to worry. I’ll be back in a few. I’ll lower the food down the chimney with a length of rope. Is that plan alright with you?” John Rolfe inquired.

“Yes, that’s fine!” Hannah Quincy called back. “Also, do you know where my dear husband is? We haven’t seen Samuel for days and we are both really worried about him.”

“Yes, madam! He probably just got snowed in at the doctor’s office. I’m sure he’s fine,” he spoke. “I’ll go check on him right after I’ve gotten you some food.” John Rolfe rose to his feet, tied his snowshoes back on, and headed back toward the ex-governor’s former residence.

…

Pocahontas had just finished creating a pair of makeshift snowshoes out of carpet beaters by breaking off the handles when John Rolfe returned. “Pocahontas!” he called down into the town hall master suite. “Are you there? Hannah and Rebeccah are both alright!”

Pocahontas poked her head through the window and looked up at John Rolfe. “Thanks for checking on them, John! Is Sam still at the doctor’s residence?” she inquired, passing her makeshift snowshoes up to him. “Put those on the snow. I’ll tie them to my feet.”

John Rolfe accepted the snowshoes, but he held up a hand before she could climb through the window. “Pocahontas, the Quincy girls are hungry. If you please, go to the kitchen and put together some gift baskets of food that I can lower down people’s chimneys. There’s no telling how many hungry people are still buried in the snow,” John Rolfe expressed. “I’ll need rope.”

Pocahontas nodded, climbed down from the window pane, and ran off to do as John Rolfe had requested. She kept making gift baskets until nearly all the food remaining in the town hall kitchen was gone and then she started handing them up to John Rolfe from the window.

John Rolfe took each one and placed it on the snow near him. Then he helped Pocahontas up so she could look around. “Wow! All the land is a vast blanket of white!” she observed.

“I know, it’s lovely. But, unfortunately, it also means that people need help. Come, let’s get these baskets to the hungry people of Jamestown,” John Rolfe replied, picking up as many as he could carry in each hand. He had to put two down because they ended up being too heavy for him to stay above the powder in his snowshoes. Dividing the work between them, Pocahontas and John Rolfe got to as many houses as they could. Not everyone had run out of food, fortunately, so they did not run out of gift baskets until they were nearly done. At that point, it was time to start digging. It was going to be a monumental task for the two of them alone. All the other men were buried in their homes and were unable to come out and help with the shoveling.

Pocahontas and John Rolfe were laboring away until about midday, having only managed to dig the people out of two homes thus far. There were two more able-bodied men to help with the shoveling once they had escaped their heavily snowed-in homes. Relief soon came in the form of dogsleds on the horizon with Chief Powhatan standing tall at the back of the first one.

The men dropped their shovels and waved as the Powhatans approached. Powhatan and his warriors all waved back to the shovelers. “Father!” Pocahontas cried as they approached.

Powhatan easily rode his dogsled over the shallow slope of snow that marked where the walls of the fortress were buried. His warriors followed in his wake, all stopping their sleds in the middle of the town square right in front of where Pocahontas, John Rolfe, and the other shovelers stood. Pocahontas plodded over to her father and embraced him around the middle. “I’m glad to see you’re alright, Daughter,” Powhatan declared, receiving her embrace. He took his snowshoes out of the cargo hold and tied them to his feet to avoid sinking into the powder. Then he walked over to John Rolfe. “Was anybody hurt or killed by the storm?” he inquired, grabbing a shovel from his sled. The warriors followed suit as they arrived, preparing to help dig out the townspeople.

“I don’t think so, sir,” John Rolfe replied. “Some families ran out of food during the storm, but Pocahontas and I were able to lower some down all the chimneys of the needy. At present, we’re buried deep. We need to dig everyone out before all this snow turns to ice, heaven forbid.”

Powhatan smiled. “Well, my warriors and I just finished excavating our village, so we thought we would come to assist. Now, the question is where to begin…” he said, peering around.

“Thank you for coming,” John Rolfe returned. “Basically, we’re starting at the smoke holes and then trying to dig our way down until we find a window or something. There isn’t really anywhere to put the snow, so we’re not going to be able to dig the settlement out completely. Our main prerogative right now is to access every home in Jamestown through a door or window so the people will have access to food. On that note, we also need to dig out the storehouse. Your daughter and I used up all the food left in the town hall to feed everyone this morning.”

Chief Powhatan peered around and assessed the situation. He quickly put three warriors to work digging out the storehouse and distributed the rest among the buried homes to dig the people out.

Chogan and Powhatan worked together in an effort to dig out Dr. Henry Leach’s abode once John Rolfe had informed the latter that Samuel Quincy was likely trapped in there.

While everyone was hard at work, Pocahontas plodded over to where her father was working. “Chogan, how’s Nakoma?” Pocahontas inquired, helping the work along with her own shovel.

“She’s having some nausea as well as aches and pains, but she’s keeping a positive attitude through all of it,” Chogan replied, flashing her a grin. “And she misses you a lot.”

Pocahontas smiled back. “I miss her too.” Suddenly, they heard a loud whistle. She craned her neck to find that Naganwaya was beckoning her to him with a full arm motion. The young woman raised her brows, wondering what the great warrior could possibly want. She shrugged and turned back to Chogan. “I’ll be back.” Then she plodded over to Naganwaya, who was busy digging out one of the townspeople’s homes by himself. He was making fast progress.

“Pocahontas!” Naganwaya greeted. “Sorry to interrupt your conversation with Chogan, but I just wanted to ask you something.” He peered over his shoulder and shot a glance at John Rolfe, who was hard at work on the home just adjacent to the one Naganwaya was working on.

Pocahontas shrugged. “It’s no big deal. What do you want to ask me?”

“I just wanted to find out if you finished helping your friend with the thing he was doing for his chief,” Naganwaya asked, pointing to the diplomat. “Are you coming home with us today?”

Pocahontas blinked. “Oh? No. Telling him all the legends of our people will take much more time than just a few months. But we did get a lot done. When the warm season comes, he will come visit the village for me to continue the stories. I just didn’t want him trying to find our village in the bad winter weather. That’s why I decided to stay here for the winter.”

Naganwaya looked a bit downtrodden. “I see. Well, I do hope we get an early spring this year.”

Pocahontas laughed. “Oh, I wish. This winter has been absolutely brutal.”

“Tell me about it,” Naganwaya returned. “I had to dig my way out from inside my house.”

“How is the village on food supplies?” Pocahontas asked.

Nagawaya looked worried. “That’s another reason we’re hoping for an early spring. Food supplies are dwindling. We’re not out yet, but the sooner the fish run comes, the better.”

“I hear you,” Pocahontas replied. “Supplies have been dwindling here too. I think the officials are starting to get worried. But maybe we’ll get lucky and a ship will come in early.”

Naganwaya snorted. “Yeah, that’d be great for you, but our people would still be in trouble.”

Pocahontas frowned. “If a ship comes in, the people of Jamestown will share with our people. John Rolfe will make sure of it. I’ll let him know about the food situation in Werowocomoco.”

Naganwaya raised a brow in surprise. “Do you really think they’d do that?”

“Yes, I am sure of it. Either way, we’ll survive—even if we do have to go a few days without food. Relief will come either in the form of a fish run or a supply ship,” she assured him.

The warrior had a look of hope in his eyes. “Well, that does help put my mind at ease.”

Pocahontas smiled. “Is that all you wanted to ask me?”

Nagawaya’s eyes snapped open. “You’re leaving?”

“I just wanted to help Father dig out the doctor’s house. My friend Sam is trapped in there and I want to get him out,” Pocahontas expressed, turning back in the other direction.

“Well, if it’s that important to you, I’ll help,” Naganwaya replied, preparing to follow.

Pocahontas turned her attention back to him. “But what about the people buried here? There’s a family of seven trapped in this house and you’re the only one working on getting them out.”

Naganwaya frowned. “Alright, I’ll stay here then.”

Pocahontas patted his shoulder as he got back to work. “Thank you, my friend.” She returned to her father’s side and continued working on trying to dig the doctor’s house out of the snow.

…

It took until dusk to finish the job of digging everyone out of their homes. The only task that remained to be seen was unearthing the constable’s office. Everyone expected to find nothing but the frozen corpse of the former governor trapped inside the building. The Powhatans had already returned to their village by the time John Rolfe finally reached the loft window.

As expected, the English diplomat discovered the former governor slumped in his usual corner, not moving a muscle. His clothing was covered in ice crystals that shimmered in the light of John Rolfe’s candlestick. When Rolfe spotted the corpse, he sighed in melancholy. He put his candle down on the constable’s desk and knelt near the bars, making the sign of the cross over his chest. “Dear God Almighty, please have mercy upon this poor sinner’s soul. I know he was a wicked man in life, but you knew every part of his heart. Maybe there was some good inside him hidden away beneath—” Rolfe began, only to find himself suddenly being throttled by the neck.

The Englishman’s eyes snapped open to find Thomas West’s ice-cold ones glaring into his. “Get me something to eat now or I’ll tear out your still-beating heart and feast on it!” he roared before throwing the diplomat with incredible strength against the far wall of the constable’s office.

John Rolfe hit the wall hard and then crumpled onto the floor, coughing and wheezing. It took him some time to catch his breath as Thomas West had literally knocked the wind out of him. He pushed his torso up from the floor slowly, wincing in pain, and peered up at the icy ex-governor through wide terrified eyes. “You… y-you can’t possibly still be alive. How?”

Pocahontas poked her head inside the window next. “John, Edward Wingfield wants to know if you need help moving the bod—” she began, only to gasp at the sight. Thomas West was on his feet, fully alive, and John Rolfe was on the floor in pain. “John, are you okay?!”

The Powhatan princess scrambled inside. She grabbed the candle off the constable’s desk and went to examine John Rolfe. Once she had helped him to his feet, the first thing she noticed was a big hand-shaped bruise beginning to form around the pale-white flesh of his throat. “He threw me across the room,” the English diplomat croaked, bringing up a hand to hold his sore throat.

Several other men poked their heads inside the window. “Lord Rolfe, is everything alright?”

Pocahontas grabbed a ceramic pot off the mantle and threw it at Thomas West with all of her might, screaming in rage. “How dare you, you monster! Don’t you ever touch him!” The men looking in the window cried out in alarm as the ceramic broke into countless shards upon impact with the bars, spewing into the former governor’s face and torso. He shrank back, trying to shield himself from the assault. Pocahontas grabbed a glass bottle full of solid-frozen red wine, hurling it at the ex-governor next with the same effect. West shrank against the back wall.

John Rolfe grabbed Pocahontas’s hand before she could throw something else. “Pocahontas, stop! This is no way to handle the situation,” the young diplomat insisted, trying to calm her.

“He’s alive?” cried one of the men. “How can that be?” A symphony of voices followed.

“It must be witchcraft!”

“No man could survive a storm like that without fire!”

“Burn him at the stake!”

“Burn the witch before he curses us!”

“Or at least hang him!”

“Hang him and then burn the corpse to ash!”

“No, burn him while he’s hanging!”

John Rolfe knitted his brows, glaring at the superstitious men. “We’re not burning anyone at the stake nor are we hanging anyone! I don’t have an explanation for this either, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. Call for the doctor right away. Maybe he can account for how Thomas West was able to survive the storm. Maybe not. If this is a matter of witches and devils, we’ll have to consult the Jamestown preacher next. He just might know what to do,” he contended.

…

A meal of bread, boiled beans, and water was brought to Thomas West’s cell first, which the disturbed man hungrily devoured before demanding more. John Rolfe shook his head. “Not after you threw me across the room,” he croaked, his voice still hoarse from the throttling. “You need to learn to ask nicely for the things you want. As of yet, you haven’t demonstrated willingness to change for the better or become a better person on the inside at all, so I haven’t much good to say to the king on your behalf.” All seven of Jamestown’s councilors stood in the room, including the interim governor Edward Wingfield. Nobody seemed to know what to make of the situation.

Edward Wingfield placed a hand on Rolfe’s shoulder. “Lord Rolfe, I will need to call a council meeting to discuss this matter and I’m going to need your testimony to make a decision.”

John Rolfe nodded to the older man. “Certainly, sir. I trust your judgment.”

Henry Leach knocked on the window. They had been expecting him. He poked his head into the room. “Did somebody call for a doctor?” he inquired, flashing John Rolfe a grin.

“Yes, sir. Oh, Dr. Leach, thank goodness you’re here. The situation with the former governor has just worsened,” John Rolfe declared, moving over to the window to help the doctor crawl inside.

Once Henry Leach was in the room, a young lady handed his briefcase to him through the open window. “Thank you, Ms. Breckinridge,” the doctor said, taking his possessions. He turned his attention toward his heavily disturbed patient, who had returned to slumping in the far corner of his jail cell. Dr. Leach put his spectacles on and trod over to examine the prisoner. His eyes widened at the sight of the man’s pallor. “Baron West, are you in any pain at all?” Henry Leach asked, placing his briefcase down on the constable’s desk. A series of candles had been provided for light, but Thomas West had demanded that no fire be started within the hearth.

“Hunger pains, yes! I need more!” West exclaimed.

Henry Leach looked perturbed and glanced back at John Rolfe. “Didn’t you just feed this man?”

“Yes,” John Rolfe returned, nodding. “But, unfortunately, he’s a glutton who is never satisfied.”

Henry Leach snorted. “I suppose that explains how he got so big before.” He turned his attention back to his patient. “Well, the lighting in here is not great, but I would have to say the man looks anemic. I’m going to prescribe him beans for every meal from now on if we’ve any to spare.”

“I believe we do for now,” John Rolfe expressed.

Dr. Leach nodded. “Very good then. After three days of the bean diet, I will return to reassess his situation. Until then, there is no need to do anything drastic like burning him at the stake. This could easily just be a nutritional ailment he is suffering from,” Henry Leach explained.

“But, doctor, can you explain how he survived the storm with no food or fire?” Rolfe inquired.

Henry Leach’s eyes popped open. “He had no food or fire?” John Rolfe shook his head and the doctor gaped back at him in shock. “I don’t understand. Wasn’t anyone here with him?”

John Rolfe shook his head again. “I wanted to come back, but the storm winds were too strong. Unfortunately, Pocahontas and I got trapped inside the town hall together for three days.”

“Heh,” Henry Leach replied. “Constable Powell and Mr. Quincy were trapped with me for three days as well. Thank the heavens we did not run out of food,” he expressed.

“Has the constable’s condition improved?”

Henry Leach nodded. “He’s healing.” He glanced back at West. “But I’ve no idea how this man is alive now. I’ve never heard of the human body being able to survive freezing temperatures for such a prolonged period of time. He should have hypothermia at least, but he appears to be in decent health aside from his pallor. Baron West, are you feeling cold right now?”

“Hungry,” returned the former governor.

“That’s all he can talk about,” John Rolfe replied. “He just demands food constantly.”

Henry Leach frowned, glanced back at West, and then turned to face John Rolfe. “Well, keep him on the bean diet for three days. Then I will come back to see if his condition has improved. Good night, Lord Rolfe,” the doctor spoke, bidding Rolfe and the other officials farewell. He left.

Next, John Rolfe and the councilors called Alexander Whitaker to the constable’s office. The preacher was taken aback at the news of what was going on with the former governor. He clasped hands with the councilors and led them all in a prayer for God to drive the devil out of old Baron West. Then he turned his attention to John Rolfe and the interim governor. “I will come and pray over him six times a day. If his condition does not improve from either prayer or the doctor’s advice over the course of the next three days, then we might have to take much more drastic actions. Let’s hope that does not happen,” Whitaker told them worriedly.

John Rolfe swallowed a lump forming inside his throat, wincing in pain. “Yes, Pastor Whitaker. Thanks for your help,” the diplomat uttered, feeling more and more fretful about the situation.

…

Pocahontas and the Quincy family were already seated for supper when John Rolfe arrived, his face lined with the anxieties they all knew he was feeling. “John, are you alright? Did the interim governor decide to call the council meeting tomorrow morning?” Pocahontas inquired.

John Rolfe shook his head. “He’s taking the doctor and preacher’s advice to wait three days to see what comes of things. To be honest, I’m not much convinced their efforts will bear fruit.” He sighed as he sat with them at the table, scooting his chair in. Mrs. Quincy ladled some of the dinner stew into his empty bowl. “My biggest concern is that this is going to lead to some kind of mass hysteria in Jamestown. We’ve got enough worries with the bad winter we’re having.”

“Mass hysteria?” Pocahontas repeated, raising a brow.

“To be honest,” Samuel Quincy chimed, “part of the reason we moved here was because of all the witch hysteria back in England. There were times when it was totally out of control.”

Hannah Quincy appeared to be frightened. “John Rolfe, if I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone else? I know you’re a good man, so I feel that I can trust you.”

John Rolfe nodded. “Of course, you can tell me anything.”

“When I was a little girl, my grandma was hung for witchcraft. She wasn’t a witch, I swear it, but the hysteria you speak of was so bad that Mummy and I fled our hometown for London.”

John Rolfe’s eyes widened in shock. He placed a hand over Hannah’s. “I’m so sorry that such a thing happened to your grandmother. What an awful experience to have had so young. If we as a community can keep our faith strong, there should be no need for rampant witch trials and hangings and burnings. People treat the devil like he’s much more powerful than he really is. God Almighty promises us redemption if we put our trust in him. He can protect us from black magic with his mighty hand. Those who have strong faith need not fear such things.”

“That’s what I’ve always believed,” Hannah said, flashing a smile.

John Rolfe smiled back and took his hand away. “I believe the mass hysteria we’re talking about is a good example of failed faith. Those who trust in God need not become so fearful.”

“Precisely,” Samuel chimed. “Oh, on that note, you missed us saying grace earlier.” He turned his attention to Mrs. Quincy. “Shall we do it again for John’s sake?” he proposed.

Hannah nodded and they all clasped hands as Samuel Quincy led them all in another short grace. They spent the rest of the dinner eating and talking about all of the problems that the colony was facing, trying to think up some clever new solutions. John Rolfe promised to present their ideas to the interim governor when he got the chance at the next council meeting.

…

**MARCH 3, 1614**

Unfortunately, three days’ worth of beans and prayer did nothing to ameliorate the former governor’s mysterious condition. Edward Wingfield had planned to call a council meeting to discuss the problem on the afternoon of March 3rd, but another terrible storm blew up before that event could come to pass. This time, John Rolfe and Pocahontas ended up trapped inside the Quincy residence, which was a more pleasant experience due to the increased number of company to socialize with. It was during that time that John Rolfe came to a decision. He and Pocahontas told the Quincy family about what had happened with a demon-possessed knife during their travels. Shocked would not even begin to describe the Quincys’ reaction to the news. It was Rolfe’s initiative to use the tale to point out a ray of hope that might exist for West’s situation. “So then Pocahontas told me that Kekata in her village would know more. Perhaps this man has more experience with fighting off the devil than Alexander Whitaker. He’s much older, after all. All I’m saying is that we aren’t out of options yet. There is always still hope.”

Rebeccah Quincy gazed at the Powhatan princess with deep admiration. “Pocahontas, did you really fight off a demon all by yourself? That is amazing. You must be a saint of some kind!”

Pocahontas grinned. “You give me too much credit. The demon was confined to an object, so it was not at its most powerful. If it had been free, defeating it would have been far more difficult.”

“What you did was still incredible, Pocahontas. If there had been no witnesses like John to back up the story, I don’t know that I would’ve been able to believe it,” Samuel admitted, flushing.

“I understand. Even I have a hard time believing that it really happened and I was there!” replied Pocahontas. “But John and I are worried about how the Jamestown council would react.”

Samuel scratched his beard as a thoughtful look crossed his face. “You know, I think you can propose your medicine man come to assess the situation without telling them about this demon knife that you fought. Even with John’s testimony, they might still be skeptical. The last thing we want is for them to decide that the two of you are insane and that your word can’t be trusted.”

Pocahontas and John Rolfe both nodded. “Good point. We need both the people of Jamestown and its leaders to trust us. If they don’t, then we would lose influence and be less able to maintain our new alliance with the Powhatans,” the latter remarked, thinking to himself.

“But part of maintaining people’s trust is honesty,” Pocahontas added. “However, honesty also requires discretion. I think it’s all about timing. If we tell this story before people are ready to hear it, it could create a hysteria. But if we tell them at a time when they are most likely to accept and believe what we’ve told them, then we could strengthen our trust with them even more.”

John Rolfe beamed at Pocahontas. “You really are a true princess, you know that?”

Pocahontas flushed. “What makes you say that?”

“Your honor, integrity, and diplomatic skills,” John Rolfe replied. A clever look flashed across his face and he leaned over to whisper in Pocahontas’s ear,  _ “Since Hannah was willing to trust us with her secret, maybe we can also trust her and her family with ours. What say you?” _

Pocahontas drew back and smiled, getting excited at the prospect. “Yes, yes! Let’s tell them.”

The Quincy family all looked confused but also curious. “Tell us what?” Hannah inquired.

John Rolfe beamed at her. “Since you’ve entrusted us with the secret about your grandmother, Pocahontas and I have decided that it is safe to entrust you all with a secret of ours. Would you care to hear it?” he inquired, panning the whole family with a twinkle in his eye.

Rebeccah bounced in her seat. “Oh, yes! You can trust us. We won’t say a thing to anyone without permission, we swear!” she told them, receiving nods of agreement from her parents.

Pocahontas felt her heart flutter, feeling excited to finally share the news with someone. Her smile could not possibly have gotten any wider as she side-glanced at John Rolfe and then raised her hand from her lap to intertwine her fingers with his on the table between them. “John’s going to ask my father for my hand in marriage this coming spring,” she proudly declared.

If Rebeccah had still been anemic, she would have swooned upon hearing the news. Instead, the whole family was shocked into silence for a few moments. The first one to speak thereafter was Samuel. “I knew it,” he said shortly. “I  _ knew _ it! I knew there was something between you two!”

“I had no idea!” Hannah professed, pressing a hand to her rapidly fluttering heart. “But it’s wonderful news! Does that mean you’ll be staying in Virginia, John? I feared you might leave eventually after negotiations were all settled and the peace treaty was signed.”

“Yes, Virginia is my new home,” John Rolfe affirmed. He squeezed Pocahontas’s hand in his. “I will stay here and help you all to build a strong foundation of peace and prosperity for all those who come after us. It will be both a diplomatic marriage and a marriage of love.”

Pocahontas melted as she met eyes with John Rolfe. “That’s right, we’re building bridges.”

The Quincy girls rose from their seats and started jumping up and down and dancing excitedly. Samuel smacked a hand gently on the tabletop. “Well, if this isn’t cause for a little celebration, then nothing is! Dearest, would you mind fetching the good wine from under the bed?”

“Ooh, ooh!” Rebeccah returned. “Let me get it! I’ll get it! You stay here, Mummy!” She shuffled over to the queen-sized bed and knelt down, rummaging around to find the stored wine bottles. She found several bottles under the head of the bed and looked through them all. “Do we want white wine or red wine for this occasion?” she inquired, panning from option to option.

“White,” Samuel Quincy replied. “We’ll have red for the actual wedding.”

John Rolfe chuckled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We don’t yet have Chief Powhatan’s permission to wed. Now, that would be a real cause for celebration.”

“Nonsense,” Samuel replied as his daughter handed him a white wine bottle. “Love itself is worth celebrating with some fine Italian wine. You must try this. It’s an excellent year.”

“Well, alright,” John Rolfe said, offering his empty mug as Samuel popped the cork.

Hannah Quincy clapped her hands several times. “Oh, this is so exciting! Is it too early to talk about wedding dresses? Oh, Pocahontas, you’re going to make such a beautiful bride.”

“I want to help make a wedding dress!” Rebeccah declared. “I can sew!”

Pocahontas grinned. “Well, I do have some ideas for the design.”

John Rolfe’s eyes popped open and he eyed Pocahontas. “Already?”

“Oh hush, John,” Pocahontas retorted. “You know this is one of those things that women start dreaming about in their early childhood. It’s perfectly normal and you know it.”

“I already have every detail of my dream wedding planned out,” Rebeccah chimed.

John Rolfe peered at Pocahontas and then Rebeccah and back again. “Oh, yes. That’s right. My sisters did that too. I thought it was silly at the time, but I suppose it’s really quite typical.”

“It is,” Pocahontas confirmed as Samuel served her some of the wine.

“Cheers!” Samuel declared, holding up his mug.

Everyone tapped their mugs together and took a sip of the wine. “Hm, not bad,” Pocahontas remarked. “I’m not normally a fan of such beverages, but this is surprisingly sweet.”

“It is really good,” John Rolfe lauded, taking another drink.

Hannah savored hers. “Yes, it’s been a long time since I’ve tasted such a good wine,” she agreed. Pocahontas, John Rolfe, Meeko, Percy, Flit, and the Quincy family stayed up for half of the night talking, laughing, toasting, telling stories, and even dancing when Rolfe got his ocarina out.

…

**MARCH 4, 1614**

It was not until early evening the day after that the storm finally settled down. It was almost dark outside, but John Rolfe made his way to the town hall where he had been told he would find the interim governor, Edward Wingfield, working in the office. Francis Couper opened the town hall door when the diplomat knocked and greeted him amiably. “Mr. Couper, my good man, our dear governor wouldn’t happen to be too busy to see me this evening, now would he?”

“He is awfully busy, Lord Rolfe. But if it is an important matter you’ve come about, I’m sure he would not refuse to meet with you. Shall I go inform him of your arrival?” Francis Couper asked.

“Yes, please do,” John Rolfe returned. He waited by the drawing room hearth to hear back from Francis Couper. The man was gone only about a minute before he reappeared and beckoned John Rolfe to enter the town hall office. When he got there, Edward Wingfield was hard at work on a stack of papers that appeared to be a mile high. He gazed up from his work and lowered his pen.

Edward Wingfield flashed John Rolfe a brief but warm smile. His face was lined with stress and worry about the state of things in the small Virginia colony. “Do come in. This will not be long, will it? I have quite a lot of work to do, Lord Rolfe, but I’m happy to meet with you.”

“Certainly not, governor. I can see you’re still worried about Baron West. I just wanted to let you know that we do have one option that we have not exhausted yet to help the man.”

Edward Wingfield’s eyes popped open, immediately interested. “Oh, merciful heavens, that is one thing I’ve been hoping to hear all day. I admit, I’m totally at a loss for how to proceed now. Once things warm up a bit, I fear rumors will start to spread and people will become frightened.”

“If we cure West’s condition before that happens, then it just might be preventable,” Rolfe said. He cleared his throat and took a seat in the embroidered chair before the desk, pulling it in closer. “I know of a wiseman from the Powhatan Confederacy who is purported to be knowledgeable in the ways of demonology. Contrary to what some of our townspeople believe, the natives around here are not heathens. They worship the God of Creation just as we do and they revile evil. This man, who goes by the name of Kekata, I’ve been told might be able to help with our situation. With your permission, governor, I’d like to call upon him to come and give his own assessment of Baron West’s condition. Being older, he has more experience in life than our preacher.”

Edward Wingfield scratched his beard thoughtfully. “To be honest, Lord Rolfe, I’m concerned enough to try anything. And yet, knowing that you’re a good Christian, I find myself trusting you. I consent to your request—but under one condition. Please keep our plan to call upon the services of a Powhatan wiseman confidential. Many of our townspeople remain distrustful of the natives, so we do not want to whip them into more of a frenzy than necessary.”

“Agreed, governor,” John Rolfe conceded. “It will take time to build trust between our nations, I understand that. We must use discretion when revealing certain information to the public.”

Edward Wingfield nodded. “Is that all?”

“For now, yes,” John Rolfe replied, rising to his feet. “I’ll send word to Werowocomoco and be sure to keep you in the loop of what is happening.” He bowed politely and made his way out.

…

It was late evening at the Quincy residence when John Rolfe returned to find Pocahontas, Meeko, Percy, and Flit by the fire. “Pocahontas, I got permission from our interim governor to bring your medicine man to Jamestown. The only condition he gave me is that we’re to keep this information under wraps for now. Overall, he wants the situation with Thomas West to be handled as quietly as possible to avoid stirring up a panic amongst the people of Jamestown. Now, how do you propose that we send word to your village about this problem? We haven’t got dogsled dogs here and the horses are too heavy to make it through the high powder.”

Pocahontas rubbed her chin, gazing at her animal friends as they played together. An idea came to mind. “I’ve got it!” she declared, snapping her fingers in triumph. “Flit!” The aforementioned hummingbird buzzed over and dutifully saluted his human companion. “You’re the fastest possible messenger. John! Bring me a piece of parchment that’s small enough for Flit to carry.”

John Rolfe blinked. “Are you sure you can write that small?”

“I’m not going to write words, I’m going to draw a symbol. Nobody in my village but me understands written English, but they do understand our Powhatan symbols just fine. When Father gets this, he should come right away as long as weather permits,” Pocahontas said.

A smirk curled its way up John Rolfe’s face. “Have I ever told you how brilliant you are?”

Pocahontas beamed back at him as he went to tear a small piece of parchment from one of his own scrap pages. He inked his quill and handed both over to Pocahontas. Then he watched as she drew three diamond shapes nestled within each other. The Powhatan princess rolled it up, tied it with a small piece of twine, and gave it to Flit. “Try to see if you can carry this, Flit,” she said.

“What does that symbol mean?” the English diplomat inquired as the hummingbird picked the tiny scroll up with his tiny feet and zipped around the room. Flit flew back over to Pocahontas and nodded to her as he dropped the little message back into the palm of her hand.

“Perfect!” Pocahontas lauded. She turned to John Rolfe. “It’s the medicine man’s eye. Hopefully, Father will know I want to see the medicine man when he receives this message. But it’s too late to send it tonight. It would be best to send the message to Werowocomoco in the morning.”

John Rolfe nodded. “Good thinking.”

…

**MARCH 5, 1614**

The weather was surprisingly fair the next morning, which made it a prime opportunity to send Flit off with the message to Werowocomoco. It was not until just after noon that a trio of soldiers spotted dogsleds approaching from up the hill. When they blew a horn to announce the arrival of the Powhatans, John Rolfe and Pocahontas ran outside to greet them. There were three sleds. The first one was driven by Chief Powhatan himself and the other two were driven by warriors. There was no sign of Kekata anywhere, but Flit was perched on the chief’s right shoulder.

“Pocahontas, what is it? Is there an emergency of some kind?” Chief Powhatan interrogated the moment he spotted his daughter. She came running over, John Rolfe in quick pursuit behind her.

“Yes, Father,” Pocahontas replied. “Well, sort of. We need Kekata. Where is he?”

Chief Powhatan shook his head. “Kekata is sick in bed at the moment. We expect him to recover, but that’s the reason we did not bring him. What do you need Kekata for?” he asked.

“It’s Thomas West, Father. He’s crazy. The doctor and the preacher have tried to help him, but their efforts have been fruitless. We’re very worried that he might hurt someone… again.”

Chief Powhatan drew his brows together. “He hurt someone? Who did he hurt?”

Pocahontas nodded her head. “He hurt the constable.” She gestured to the English diplomat at her side. “And John here, but his injury is much less severe than Constable Powell’s was.”

Chief Powhatan eyed John Rolfe. “How did he hurt you?”

The Englishman unwrapped the warm scarf around his neck and showed the black-and-blue bruises from the baron’s terrible squeeze to the chief. The dark marks contrasted sharply against the pale-white flesh of John Rolfe’s throat. Powhatan gasped. “He strangled me and threw me across the room with great strength. Thomas West is much stronger than he looks somehow.”

Chief Powhatan bobbed his head. “And how did he hurt the constable?”

“West bit poor Constable Powell on the forearm. It was terribly bloody,” John Rolfe revealed, covering up his neck with the scarf once more as a chilly wind blew past them.

The chief scratched his chin. “Is it safe for me to go and see this former governor myself?”

“Yes,” John Rolfe replied. “It should be safe as long as you stay away from the jail bars. The only reason I approached is because I believed that the baron was dead at the time.”

Chief Powhatan’s eyes widened. “You thought he was dead?”

The English diplomat nodded. “Well, he sort of looks like a dead man, except the part where he moves and talks. Thomas West also seems to have become immune to the cold. The man was trapped inside the constable’s office for three days. He was alone and without heat, yet somehow he survived.” All the chief could do at first was gape in response. Slowly, he pulled his daughter aside and started speaking to her in Powhatan. John Rolfe was curious as to what they were talking about, but he did not want to be rude and interrupt them. The discussion soon started to get heated. “I-is everything alright?” he eventually interjected, getting more and more worried.

The deliberation immediately halted and Pocahontas peered at John Rolfe. “We’re not sure.”

Chief Powhatan turned his attention to John Rolfe as well. “Show me this man.”

“Yes, sir,” John Rolfe replied, bobbing his head. “Right this way.” Rolfe led father and daughter around a corner and past a few snow-covered houses until they reached the constable’s office, which was still mostly buried in snow just like all the other homes in the small settlement. “We are going to have to crawl into a side window because the front door is still under snow. We can’t dig it out because we’ve got nowhere left to put the extra snow. I’m sure you understand.”

Chief Powhatan nodded and watched as John Rolfe stopped by the window in question, knocking gently on the pane. A few seconds later, a guard in uniform pulled it open. “Yes?”

“May we come in?” Rolfe inquired. The guard shrugged and offered him a hand. The English gentleman climbed through the window and then turned around to help Pocahontas get in and then her father. John Rolfe was the first to approach the bars, though he was careful not to get too close. Thomas West was again slumped in his favorite little corner. Due to the fire in the hearth, he was sweating heavily and trying to stay as far away from the heat source as possible. Rolfe turned his attention to the guard. “Would you mind giving us maybe five minutes of privacy?”

The man looked surprised. “Alright, but I’m taking the jail cell keys with me,” he decreed.

“That’s fine,” John Rolfe replied as the guard made to leave. Once he was gone, John Rolfe gestured toward Thomas West. “So this is the state that he is in. He can’t stand the heat and he always stays in that back corner, refusing to use his bed at all. It’s quite bizarre, I tell you.”

Though Pocahontas’s attention was mostly focused on West, she cast a glance toward the chief. “Father, John and I fear that he may be possessed by some kind of demon. A normal human being would not behave like this. Kekata knows more about such evil beings than anyone else.”

“True, he does,” Chief Powhatan replied. “Has this man’s condition changed in the past few days or has it mostly stayed the same? If it doesn’t change, we might just be able to wait for Kekata to recover. If not, I will have to send for Nehamakin from Uttamussak, but it might be difficult or impossible for him to make it to Jamestown through the coming winter storms.”

John Rolfe’s shoulders slumped. “How much longer do you think this weather is going to last?”

“It’s hard to say. The spring thaw might not begin until late March for all we know. Our people are on rations right now because we fear we might have a real famine on our hands if the fish run doesn’t start soon. But for the fish run to start, the river ice must start to break apart.”

The Englishman sighed. “Well, I suppose all we can do now is pray.”

Chief Powhatan placed a hand on John Rolfe’s shoulder. “Even if we go for up to a week without food, it is unlikely anybody will die from it. If it was not for you and Pocahontas returning when you did, both our people and most of the settlers would be starving to death right now.”

John Rolfe grinned. “I see what you mean. Look on the bright side, eh?”

The chief nodded and approached the jail bars, staying some distance back. He wanted to get a good look at the former governor. The man appeared to be asleep, so Chief Powhatan whistled loudly to get his attention. West’s bloodshot eyes popped open, which alarmed the chief greatly. “Snuff out the fire. It’s too hot!” the man hissed. He leaped forward and slammed into the bars.

Chief Powhatan, Pocahontas, and John Rolfe both jerked backward abruptly. “See!” John Rolfe pointed out. “He’s gone nuts, I tell you! And he’s way stronger than he should be!”

The chief brought up a hand to silence the diplomat. “I sense a deep spiritual disturbance within this man,” Powhatan announced. “He will definitely need to see a very experienced shaman.”

“Yes, sir,” John Rolfe replied.

Chief Powhatan turned sharply toward him. “We will get one here as soon as we can. If anyone else gets hurt or something changes, please send us notification like you did earlier today.”

“Pocahontas sent it,” John Rolfe admitted, gesturing to his lady friend.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the window. The English diplomat went to open it, finding it to be the guard he had sent off. “I wanted to check on you all to ensure everything’s alright.”

John Rolfe helped him climb back in through the window. “Yes, we’re fine. And I think we’re done for now. Thank you so much, soldier. I have one little request. If you could reduce the size of the fire for the ex-governor’s sake, I would much appreciate it. He seems to hate heat.”

The man nodded and leaned over to whisper,  _ “Honestly, I’m creeped out by him. If you could ask the interim governor on my behalf to change the guard more often, I’d appreciate it.” _

John Rolfe nodded. “I certainly shall.” He beckoned Pocahontas and Chief Powhatan toward the window. “Come, let’s go,” he said. “It looks like some dark clouds are rolling in.”


	7. A Creature of Legend

After Chief Powhatan and his warriors had returned to Werowocomoco, another heavy blizzard hit. Though there was not much in the way of precipitation at first, the winds blew strong enough to knock a man off of his feet for the first few days. Men had to literally crawl on hands and knees to go collect their rations from the storehouse. Bill Bates distributed enough rations for a whole week to each household, concerned that another powerful winter storm would snow them all into their homes again soon, but not much was left in the storehouse afterward.

**MARCH 12, 1614**

The brutal winds and occasional snows continued for seven days, rarely stopping or slowing down for any significant length of time. When Bill Bates distributed enough food supplies for another week, the storehouse was nearly empty. He warned each head of household to make it last as long as possible. On the evening of March 12th, freezing rain started quite suddenly. It was a torrential downpour, which packed down the powdery snow until it became solid ice.

**MARCH 13, 1614**

The next morning, the tops of homes were relatively clear once the rain had washed away the snow, but massive icicles hung from the eaves of all buildings. The bottoms of the Jamestown houses were all frozen solid in the thick ice. Nobody could so much as budge their front door. Men were outside using pickaxes to try and break up the ice around their homes. Nearby, children ice skated in the town square as they laughed and played games. Light snow flurries fluttered around everyone. Despite the generally light-hearted atmosphere, all of the adults were worried about the food shortage. Their homes were almost empty like the Jamestown storehouse. Every household had maybe a week’s worth left at most and the storehouse had even less.

John Rolfe was outside the town hall breaking up ice at the front doors when he felt someone gingerly tap his shoulder. He spun around to see a family of eight. The man stood nearest him and the wife stood behind her husband holding their youngest child, a girl toddler. “Hello, Lord Rolfe. My name is Raphael Bloomsbury. I’m so sorry to bother you at work, my lord, but my wife and I are worried about the food stores. What does the council plan to do if we run out? Is there a backup storage anywhere?” Raphael inquired. Meanwhile, the little children were looking up at the English gentleman with big pleading eyes. Rolfe hated to disappoint them.

The diplomat sighed, but a look of determination befell him. “Listen, we haven’t got a secret backup anywhere. But consider this, my friends, we are in early spring here. Soon enough, a ship will come in with supplies or the fish run will start in the rivers. Either way, we won’t starve to death—not even if we have to go a few days without food. The very last of our stores will be saved for those who need it most, like the children and the sick—not to mention pregnant and nursing mothers. I myself will gladly go up to a week or more without sustenance if it means that the most vulnerable members of our settlement will have what they need, you have my word.”

The couple looked worriedly at each other. “But Lord Rolfe,” the wife expressed, “do you really know what it’s like to go hungry? My husband and I do. You might not tolerate it as well as you think. We do not mean to sound skeptical, sir, but a man of your rank can get what he needs more easily than the rest of us when times are tough. It’s something we’ve experienced firsthand.”

“Verity, don’t say such things!” Raphael chided her. “This man is not like the other gentlemen. That much is clear. He is not opposed to physical work. We shouldn’t insult him.”

John Rolfe flashed a smile, which surprised the family. “Not to worry, Mr. Bloomsbury. I am not insulted and I understand your wife’s hesitation. It might come as a surprise to you both that I do know what it’s like to go hungry for up to three days at a time. It happened in the very recent past, in fact. Don’t believe me? Ask Princess Pocahontas. She was there and she experienced the same misery that I did. I know it is a terrible experience, but it is survivable. As soon as the earth thaws, we will plant all the fields around the settlement with corn, barley, and other edible crops to ensure this winter’s unfortunate events never happen again. Does that help ease your mind?”

The couple exchanged glances, smiled, and turned back to John Rolfe to give him a nod. “Yes, sir. We’re still a bit worried, but it helps tremendously to know that our leaders are trustworthy,” Verity Bloomsbury replied. “I suppose that we’ll just have to pray for luck at this point.”

“Believe me, I’ve been doing lots of praying myself. It certainly never hurts,” John Rolfe said. He gave Raphael a pat on the shoulder. “Now, if there’s nothing else you need, I probably should be getting back to work. Don’t want the townspeople thinking I refuse to get my hands dirty.”

“Certainly, Lord Rolfe. Thank you so much,” Raphael concluded.

Verity Bloomsbury turned to leave. “Come along, children. Let’s go play with the others.”

John Rolfe smiled as the family walked away. Raphael got back to work and Verity went to supervise the children playing on the ice. He had to admit to himself that he was a bit relieved that neither of them had mentioned Thomas West. It seemed that the only people who knew about West’s mysterious condition were John Rolfe himself, the Powhatans, the Jamestown officials, the Quincys, the constable, the doctor, the preacher, and the guards—all of whom were firmly instructed not to say anything to their families or others concerning the matter.

**MARCH 17, 1614**

It was time for rations to be handed out again, but there were very few supplies left. Since the weather was so cold and windy, John Rolfe called a town meeting together in the town hall. “Listen, everyone. I know you’re all worried about the food situation. I am as well. We’ve done very well conserving this past winter, but the fact of the matter is that most of us will have to go a while without food. By ‘a while,’ I mean up to a week or more. The rations remaining are on reserve for the children, the sick, and pregnant or nursing mothers. This change means a couple of things. Everyone is off of work duty, including the soldiers. I expect you all to stay home and keep warm by the fire. Try to keep children from becoming too rambunctious or they’ll work up an appetite. There is plenty of firewood in the storehouse, so please load up before you go home today if you haven’t already. Do not be afraid to sleep in. In fact, the interim governor and I very much encourage you to do so. The more you rest, the less energy you’ll need to stay alive. While at home, I encourage you all to share stories and play board games together to help distract from your hunger. Most of all, I encourage you to pray and to trust in God that relief will soon come.”

Murmurs and whispered prayers were heard around the room, which John Rolfe found highly encouraging. But then a man cried out suddenly, “What will we do if the next supply ship never comes in like the last one? We’ll starve before any of the crops even have a chance to ripen!”

Edward Wingfield moved in. “Thank you, Lord Rolfe. I just have a few items to add. Please, sir, be calm. Things are not as bad as you think. The Powhatans have informed us that food will be available again as soon as the waterways start to thaw. A spring fish run means we’ll be able to go out with cast nets and catch more than enough fish to feed everyone in town until other food sources become available. So relief will soon arrive either way. Normally, the fish run starts in early March, but it will be a bit late this year on account of the cold winter weather.”

Benjamin Beast stepped forward with an angry expression. “Lord John Rolfe is the only man we trust! You and the other councilors ate from West’s hoarded food supply this past December and didn’t bother to share with any of us so-called ‘peasants.’ How do we know you don’t have food hidden away right now, eh?” he exclaimed. Echoes of agreement circulated the whole room.

The clamor caused the interim governor to step back, intimidated. John Rolfe stepped forward, holding up his hands in defense of the councilors. “Listen, my friends. I understand why you distrust the council. However, I think you should give them a chance to redeem themselves. Think of it like this. None of these men had a rank to match that of Baron West. Everyone and I mean  _ everyone _ , lived in fear of that awful man. West threatened the families of those who went against his orders, after all, and these men here all have families too. Like you, they were afraid to get on Thomas West’s bad side for the sake of their loved ones. And, besides, I have spoken to the council about the food situation. For the sake of building trust with the people of Jamestown, they have all agreed to open their own homes to inspection. All the councilors and I have sworn that not a bite of food will pass our lips until more becomes available. That which remains, as of right now, is for pregnant or nursing women, children, and invalids alone. Alright?”

The people seemed to consider John Rolfe’s words. Finally, several murmurs of agreement and concession came from the crowd. John Rolfe smiled. “Aye,” uttered the Scotsman.

…

**MARCH 18, 1614**

That night was windy. Most of the townspeople went to bed hungry, including John Rolfe. Still, he slept relatively peacefully until morning. It was a scream of terror that awakened him from a fairly restful slumber at the very crack of dawn. His eyes snapped open and he threw back the blankets, shivering in the cold air because the fire had died overnight. Despite the chill, he tore off his nightshirt and threw on some clothes as fast as he could manage. Then John Rolfe ran to the window and tried to yank it up. Ice had frozen it solidly in place. He could not so much as make it budge. He ran to the inn lobby and pried open the door, as the ice had been picked away the day before. The English gentleman threw it open, surprised that the outside was not as cold as it had been. There was still frost in the air, but a warm sun shined on the horizon. “Hello? Who is out there? Do you need any help?” John Rolfe called, not seeing anyone at first glance.

“The storehouse! It’s been broken into! Hurry, rouse the councilors!” came the voice.

John Rolfe gasped. “Be right there!” When he reached the scene of the crime, all he could do was gape. A small crowd was gathering around the building that had not just been broken into, it had been partially demolished by some great force. Massive claw marks were all over the broken pieces of timber that had once made up the south-facing wall of the Jamestown storehouse. Rolfe gestured for the crowd to back up as he approached. He spotted a soldier out front with a loaded musket and beckoned the man to hand over the firearm. “I will investigate forthwith. You keep the people back,” John Rolfe decreed, taking the gun in hand as the guard handed it over.

He stepped over a broken pole and ducked beneath another as he made his way into the ravaged storehouse. Tiny sprinkles of flour and food were scattered on what was visible of the floor. Most of the inside was too dark. He turned back toward the people and called out, “Someone get me a torch! I can’t see a thing. Whatever dangerous creature did this might still be in there!”

A couple minutes later, a guard came over with a bright glowing torch and climbed in to help light John Rolfe’s way into the broken building. When the interior was lit up, it became immediately clear that someone or something had stolen and devoured nearly every last scrap of food that remained in the building. The firewood and other supplies were entirely untouched. “Merciful heavens!” John Rolfe declared, pointing the musket toward the back.

“I hear you,” agreed the guard. “But whatever it was, it’s gone now.”

John Rolfe sighed. “Let’s hope. We need to go investigate to see where it might’ve…”

“Lord Rolfe!” came a voice from behind the storehouse. “I’ve found tracks! They have to belong to some clawed beast. Come look! Oh, it broke through the fort walls in the back!”

 

John Rolfe gasped. When he climbed out of the broken-in storehouse, a young woman came plodding over and almost slipped on the ice and snow. “Thomas West has escaped! The back wall of the constable’s office was ripped out as if by some massive beast! It’s witchcraft, I say! The tracks led me here! Oh, the storehouse… it broke into the storehouse as well?” She burst into tears. “My husband was the one guarding him and I’ve found no sign of him! Where is my poor James?! People, we must find him! I can’t live without him!” the poor woman cried.

“We’ll send out a search party immediately, Mrs. Read,” John Rolfe hurriedly replied.

Pocahontas and the Quincys appeared, gaping at the scene. “John, what’s happened?!” cried the Powhatan princess. “What happened to the storehouse? Oh no, the food supplies!”

“Pocahontas! I’m glad you’re here. I need you to send a notice to your people straight away. A man is missing and we’ll need help to find him,” John Rolfe quickly informed her.

“But what happened here?” Rebeccah cried.

John Rolfe frowned. “Some manner of beast came to our settlement and stole all the food in the storehouse. It seems that it has stolen two people as well, Thomas West and James Read. We need to hurry and follow its tracks into the forest. For all we know, they might still be alive!”

The growing crowd was in an uproar. “What could’ve done it?”

“It must have been a bear of massive size!”

“No, it’s witchcraft! Nothing else explains it!”

“It could’ve been a huge mountain lion!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! There’s no cougar big enough to do all that!”

“Maybe there is and we just don’t know it!”

“It has to be witchcraft! A witch summoned the beast!”

“I’ll bet Thomas West was the witch!”

“Maybe Thomas West was just a victim of the witch!”

“How can we find out the truth?”

A few of the male faces in the crowd turned on Pocahontas quite abruptly. One man pointed at the young woman. “The Indian! It has to be a heathen like her who summoned the monster!”

“Yeah, she’s the odd one out!” called another male voice.

Pocahontas cried out as a man grabbed her and pulled away from the Quincy family. “You!” he bellowed, forcing her to face him. His breath reeked. “You’ve done this, haven’t you?!”

The confrontation was cut short by Samuel Quincy’s fist as it plunged into the man’s face. He released Pocahontas’s wrist and fell hard on the ice. Samuel pulled Pocahontas behind him just as John Rolfe got there, seeing red. He was on the would-be assailant in an instant.

“John, stop!” Pocahontas cried. He froze right before lambasting the man with the butt of his musket and glanced back at her, his face red with fury. “You don’t need to do that. I’m okay.”

John Rolfe was so angry, he was shaking. But Pocahontas’s words seemed to have the intended effect. He peered back down at the fool cowering on the ground below him and then looked back up at the musket in his grip. Rolfe snorted and handed the musket over to a guard. “Find a place to chain this idiot up. I’m going to speak to the governor about possible banishment.”

A middle-aged woman in the crowd gasped. “Banishment? But, my lord, I’m sure my husband meant no harm. He’s frightened, as are we all. Sometimes frightened people do stupid things,” she pleaded, rushing over to John Rolfe’s side. She curtsied in a humble manner. “Please, sir, I beg you to reconsider!” Then she shuffled over to Pocahontas’s side and gently took the young woman’s hand. “Princess Pocahontas, I’m sure you understand. Won’t you forgive him?”

Pocahontas smiled and put her other hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Of course, I will.”

“See!” John Rolfe suddenly proclaimed loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “You just saw it for yourselves, my friends. Pocahontas forgives without hesitation. Who else do we know of who grants forgiveness so freely? None other than Jesus Christ himself! And here you are, accusing her and her people of heathenism in your hearts, thinking yourselves better, superior. You ought to be ashamed of your hubris! That’s right, I said  _ hubris _ . In your hearts and minds, you compare yourselves to God Almighty, who alone bears the right to pass judgment upon mankind. If a lady such as Pocahontas comports herself in a Christ-like manner and you, the people of Jamestown, are Christian in name only, then take a wild guess as to which of you will be able to pass through those pearly gates. Well, take a guess!” The diplomat shook his head and sneered. “I order you all to church right away! I will go meet with the council right now and then we’ll send you out in search of James Read and Thomas West. The other councilors and I must investigate this bizarre turn of events first and foremost,” he decreed, waving the crowd off toward the church.

As the crowd dispersed, Alexander Whitaker walked up behind John Rolfe and placed a hand on the stressed gentleman’s shoulder, causing him to jump. “Lord Rolfe, forgive me for startling you. I just wanted to say that I agree with everything you said. Sometimes people forget such teachings and it’s up to others to remind them of what it really means to be Christian.” Then he turned and approached Pocahontas, taking one of her slender hands in both of his. “Princess, I thank you for your courage today. You would make a wonderful addition to our church, should you decide to attend in the future. Now, I must be off. I have a perfect sermon for this occasion.”

The preacher left Pocahontas, John Rolfe, and the Quincy family standing there in the snow by themselves. Rebeccah and her mother exchanged glances, shrugged, and then started off toward the church. “Wait!” Rolfe protested. “I need to speak to you. I excuse you from attendance.”

Rebeccah turned back, frowning. “But I want to hear the pastor’s sermon. It sounds interesting.”

John Rolfe’s face fell, but then he lightened up and chuckled. “Oh, okay. I suppose we can speak after the sermon,” he decided, allowing them to leave. Samuel Quincy followed his wife and daughter. The gentleman turned his attention to Pocahontas as she stared out after her friends with an eager expression. “Is something wrong, love?” he inquired. “Don’t you worry about what those men said. I meant what I said. Accusing you of witchcraft, of all people, is idiotic at best.”

“No, it’s just…” Pocahontas began. “That sermon does sound interesting.”

John Rolfe raised both eyebrows. “You want to go to church?”

Pocahontas nodded. “Yes, but… I’m kind of afraid to. What if I find some of those men glaring at me? I wouldn’t feel welcome in a place like that,” she pointed out, wringing her hands.

John Rolfe frowned. “I see your point. Maybe give it time and the people here might become more accepting. Who knows? If you’re afraid to go, I’m sure you can ask Rebeccah about it afterward. Anyway, love, we’ve got serious business. I need to go rouse the councilors and the governor and I need you to summon your father with a message. I think the wind is mild enough that you can send Flit to Werowocomoco with a message. Perhaps Kekata has recovered by now and might be able to shed some light on this whole bizarre mystery. What say you?”

“Yes, I hope he feels better now. If not, I’m sure my father will bring another shaman to our aid.”

John Rolfe sent Pocahontas back to the Quincy residence to write a message for Flit to carry. Rolfe himself knocked on the doors of all the councilors, the majority of whom were still asleep. He called them to a meeting in the town hall and sent Francis Couper ahead to prepare the large drawing room with a fire to keep them warm while they discussed the matter. When the council all arrived, he briefed them on the situation which had happened overnight. Edward Wingfield, in particular, looked distraught. He had only just agreed to take over the colony’s affairs and he was already facing his first serious crisis. Not only was the storehouse empty, but he worried that the hungry people of Jamestown would riot or mutiny in response to the fear caused by the unknown beast that had created all the fuss. The settlement was facing a terrible combination of potential starvation and unexplainable events. Once they had wrapped up the discussion, John Rolfe then directed all of them to follow him to the scene of the crime. They started at the constable’s office.

John Rolfe was surprised to find no beast tracks leading to the constable’s office. It appeared as if the tracks had started there and then proceeded to the storehouse before escaping the fortress entirely by tearing through a section of the wall. The prints themselves appeared to have been created by something bipedal with long claws for toenails and feet exceeding the size of a grown man’s by at least four inches. If the creature wanted to take two people and devour all the food in the storehouse, where had it come from to begin with? One of the councilors proposed that it might have flown in somehow, but John Rolfe shook his head, thinking that to be pretty unlikely.

“When church lets out, we’re going to send some parties to follow the tracks and search for the missing men,” John Rolfe decreed, looking to the interim governor for approval. Wingfield gave him a nod and Rolfe lightly clapped a hand down on the man’s shoulder. “It’s alright, governor. You have our full support and we won’t give up no matter what. Understand?”

Edward Wingfield nodded again. “I appreciate that, Lord Rolfe. But the men are hungry. The only food left in the settlement is whatever people have in their homes. I’m going to have to have the guards go through every house and take the food to be redistributed to pregnant women and children alone. How can we expect hungry men to go on a search into a deep snowy forest? They will be absolutely starved by the time they get back!” the fellow quickly pointed out.

“Not to worry, my good man. I’ve sent Pocahontas to call upon her people. Surely, they have some food left for themselves and I do not doubt that they will be willing to expend some energy to help us track down the missing men and whatever beast it was that took them,” Rolfe said.

Bartholomew Gosnold rubbed his forehead. “I have a headache from hunger. I can’t see how we’ll be able to deal with this situation without anything to eat. Where will we get the energy?”

“Don’t think too much on it, Lord Gosnold. Let’s just wait until the Powhatans get here,” John Rolfe replied. “We’ve gotten through very tough situations before. How about we pray together? Would that help put all of your minds at ease?” the young diplomat suggested, clasping hands. The men all nodded, clasping their own hands together too. Rolfe led them in a short prayer for God to send the settlement the basic necessities to help them all get through a trying time. When they were done, the council started to discuss the matters more in-depth until John Rolfe shushed them all, placing a hand to his ear. “Can’t you all hear that? It sounds like barking dogs!”

The councilors all rose from their seating in the town hall drawing room and hurriedly put on their coats, rushing outside just as the Powhatans arrived. Glancing around, John Rolfe saw that they had actually gotten in through the broken section of wall. It was fortunate they found a way in since the bottom of the gate was actually frozen solidly in place. Edward Wingfield and the others rushed to greet their visitors. “Chief Powhatan, welcome! Do we ever need your help!”

As Chief Powhatan dismounted his dogsled, he shot a glance at the broken section of the fort where he and his warriors had entered. “Yes, I can see that. What has happened here?”

“I’ll let John Rolfe explain. He was the first of us to see anything,” Wingfield replied, stepping aside for the young English diplomat to take his place before the paramount chief.

“It seems some manner of violent beast broke into the settlement last night. It was too windy for anyone to hear anything, but two men are missing and the creature also ate every last scrap of food that was in the storehouse. In fact, it appeared to have been so strong that it tore through the buildings and the fortress wall there. Do you have any idea what kind of animal could have done such a thing? The tracks and damage indicate whatever it was had long claws and walked on two feet. However, we could not find where the animal entered the settlement in the first place. It seems to have magically appeared at the constable’s office,” John Rolfe expressed, stumped.

Just as the Englishman finished his explanation, Pocahontas caught up with them. “Father!” she declared, rushing past John Rolfe. She embraced the chief. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

Chief Powhatan returned Pocahontas’s affection and then glanced over his shoulder, making a beckoning gesture. Kekata stepped forward, clapping a hand to his chest as he cleared his throat. “Greetings, Pocahontas,” he croaked. “I apologize for being unable to come sooner.”

“Kekata!” Pocahontas said happily. “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad to see that you’re recovering. We’ve got a serious situation on our hands here.” Then she whispered in Powhatan,  _ “And I am afraid it might be of a supernatural nature. The settlers are all very frightened.” _

“What was that?” Edward Wingfield spoke, having missed the last part.

Pocahontas shook her head. “Nothing important.”

Kekata nodded. “Yes, I hope this ‘beast’ that attacked Jamestown is not what I fear it might be.”

“And what do you fear it might be?” John Rolfe inquired, raising a brow in curiosity.

Kekata shook his head. “First, show us all the damage. I must examine the evidence before I can draw any conclusions,” he decreed. “I would not want to stir any fears unnecessarily.”

John Rolfe looked hesitant, but he bobbed his head in agreement. “Yes, sir.” The diplomat and other councilors brought the Powhatans to the original scene of the crime, the constable’s office. Kekata and his assistants took their time assessing every last crook and crevice of the damaged building. The shaman sent some of the warriors to investigate the rest of the fortress and all the areas between the houses for any additional evidence. Meanwhile, Kekata lowered himself to his knees in the snow beside the creature’s tracks, bending down to scrutinize them. He used his hand to measure the size and width of the prints as well as the length of the creature’s toes and claws. The shaman followed the tracks to the storehouse, repeating the same routine with that building as he had done with the constable’s office. He examined everything from top to bottom.

As Kekata was preparing to deliver his highly-anticipated assessment, John Rolfe realized he was sweating inside his coat. His eyes popped open in a moment of realization and he peered up at the sky. The sun had crested the canopy about an hour before and the temperature of the air had risen to above freezing for the first time since the freezing cold winter had begun. “It’s rather warm, don’t you think?” he noted to Pocahontas as he unbuttoned his winter coat, relishing the feel of the cool air on his overheated chest. “Wow, I don’t think spring is so far off after all.”

“You’re right,” Pocahontas happily declared, unbuttoning her own coat. “Oh, I can’t wait to see the first flowers of spring! I’m going to be so happy. Ooh, John! Once the fish run starts, I want to take you out to the northern woods to collect maple sap. Cold winters always mean enormous amounts of delicious maple syrup! See? Everything has a silver lining, doesn’t it?” she giggled.

John Rolfe felt his stomach rumble at the mere suggestion. “Oh, yes, I’d like that very much.”

The councilors were all standing around in a circle as Kekata cleared his throat. “My friends, I believe I have an idea of what kind of creature may have been responsible. It seems an incredibly far-fetched theory, but, unfortunately, it is the only theory I have,” he declared to the small crowd of Jamestown councilors and Powhatans. Everyone turned their heads as the church service started to let out. People flooded out into the open air, chattering amongst themselves. Kekata turned back to the councilors. “Let us go to your communal house to discuss this matter alone. Afterward, we send out search parties. However, I caution you not to get your hopes up. If the creature is indeed what I suspect it is, it is likely that the missing soldier is dead. Come, let’s go.”

The councilors nodded and followed the Powhatans to the town hall, all filing inside as Francis Couper held open the door for them. In the drawing room, Kekata stood before the lit hearth with a solemn look on his face. Every white man in the small crowd swallowed a lump in his throat, afraid to hear the news. “Alright, sir,” John Rolfe declared. “Please, what kind of animal did it?”

The shaman shook his head. “There is no earthly animal in these lands capable of doing the kind of damage that has been done to your settlement. The creature I am about to tell you of was once thought to be nothing more than a myth intended to frighten ill-behaved children. However, the evidence that I’ve seen here today and heard tell of suggests otherwise. I can’t tell you the whole story right now because we need to hurry and send out search parties, but I can tell you this. The chenawq is a creature of supernatural ability. It cannot be killed with arrows nor with spears. As for your fire-sticks, I do not know what damage they are capable of doing to such a monster. If we track down this creature and meet it face-to-face, it is likely that no witnesses will survive…”

“Drivel!” Edward Morish, the Jamestown marshal, cried. “Such things are but superstition!”

John Rolfe drew his brows together in anger at the marshal’s rude interruption. “Well, if you’ve any better ideas, marshal, please do enlighten us. If not, I expect you to remain silent and listen to what this wise man has to say with an open mind. If you cannot do that, then leave.”

The marshal rounded on John Rolfe and pointed a finger in his face. “It seems to me this is all a scheme by our so-called ‘friends’ to drive us off the land! If these people think they can tell us horror stories and frighten us into leaving, they better think again! We’re men, not children!”

Edward Wingfield’s face turned red. “Marshal, get out! That’s an order!” he shouted. Morish huffed, spun on a heel, and marched out of the room in anger. Wingfield rubbed his forehead and turned to Powhatan and Kekata. “Please, accept my apology and disregard his words. I am sure you know how frightened people can easily forget their manners and behave with hostility. That is what we are afraid might happen to the masses here. God forbid we end up with mass panic on our hands. The results would be very ugly, I guarantee,” Wingfield expressed worriedly.

“I am told that Morish has always been brash,” John Rolfe added. “Please, Kekata, continue. So you think this ‘chenawq’ thing is what took Baron Thomas West and James Read?”

Kekata shook his head. “No, I believe Baron West  _ is _ the chenawq.”

_ “What?!” _ all the councilors, including John Rolfe, cried in unison.

“I don’t understand!” John Rolfe exclaimed. “How can a man just turn into a monster? Is West possessed by a demon of some kind?” he rapidly interrogated, pondering back on earlier events.

Kekata raised a brow. “If by ‘demon’ you mean evil spirit, then yes. The legends indicate that when a man commits the sins of selfishness, gluttony, or cannibalism, he may unknowingly make himself vulnerable to possession by powerful evil spirits. The sins must be extreme, such as withholding food from starving children or eating the flesh of one’s enemies. Simply making a pig out of oneself at every village feast is not enough. The guilty person is then transformed into a chenawq as punishment for his or her crimes. The heart of a chenawq is made of the coldest ice, thus rendering them invulnerable to the cold. Heat is believed to be one of their very few weaknesses. That is why I wonder if your fire-sticks might be able to harm the beast, especially your giant fire-sticks that are too heavy for any one man to lift,” the shaman explained.

“You mean our cannons?” John Rolfe asked, receiving a nod. “We have some that are more portable than others, the small ones. If heat or fire can harm the beast, maybe we can find a way to spray something flammable like alcohol on it and light it on fire,” he conjectured.

“That’s a good idea, John,” Pocahontas remarked, pleasantly surprised.

“If these beasts truly do exist, then our ancient ancestors lived in abject fear of them. Especially in the time when the land was far colder than it is today, the age of ice. That has to be the time that our legends originated from. It was when the great wooly beasts still walked the land. Of course, I was not there so I do not know all of these things for certain,” Kekata indicated.

“Alright, alright,” Edward Wingfield announced. “As much as I want to know more, I hear the crowd outside getting restless. They want to start the search. We have a problem though. We are out of food. The only sustenance left in the settlement, if there is any at all, is in people’s homes. I know if we send men out on a search, they’re going to be absolutely famished by the time they get back. As of right now, they’re already hungry to begin with. What are we to do?”

Chief Powhatan had a thoughtful look on his face as he rubbed his chin. “We may be able to kill two bucks with one arrow if I’m remembering what my lead warrior told me this morning correctly. Naganwaya, didn’t you mention something about coming upon a large herd of deer in the northern woods a day or two ago when you were hunting by yourself?” he asked.

Naganwaya’s eyes seemed to pop open in alarm. He replied in Powhatan, “Uh, yes, Great Powhatan, but we’ll need them for ourselves. Our corn supply is almost empty.”

“What I think is that we can easily share,” Powhatan said in reply, “since the men of Jamestown could be of great use to us in catching them. If we work together with both bows and fire-sticks, we can kill a lot more of the beasts than if we just send our warriors after them.”

“Not if we drive them off of a cliff,” Naganwaya pointed out.

Powhatan shook his head and switched back to English. “You saw them in the lowlands. Driving them to a cliff could break up the herd and kill does and fawns. This winter has been hard enough on the deer. We won’t have much venison next year if we wipe them out. If we surround the herd on all sides, the males will come forward to protect the females and little ones and we will shoot the antlered ones only. We might be able to get almost all of them. Just one male is needed to impregnate many females, whereas many females are needed to repopulate. Despite these being hard times, we must remain good stewards of the land or it will cost us in the future. Do not forget the tales of what became of the great wooly beasts because our ancestors were too naive to have these discretions. Their thoughtless deeds left us to survive on much smaller prey.”

Naganwaya’s face fell. Since rations were tight in Werowocomoco, he disliked the idea of splitting the bounty with the hundreds of Jamestown settlers, but the paramount chief had made an excellent point. He sighed and said, “Yes, wise chief. I suppose that you are right.”

“So we’re going hunting?” John Rolfe remarked. “It sounds like a decent plan.”

“Yes,” Chief Powhatan replied. “Come, let’s go see the rest of the settlers so we can put together a series of hunting and search parties. I’ve already got a great strategy in mind.”

…

It took about an hour to get everything organized. Three parties made up of ten heavily-armed settlers and three warrior guides each would pursue the chenawq’s tracks into the northwestern wilderness where they appeared to lead. Four such parties, each settler with his own firearm and each warrior with his own bow, would travel northeast toward the lowlands where Naganwaya had last spotted the herd of deer. They took enough supplies on their dogsleds to set up camp in the wilderness should the need arise. Once everyone was ready to go, John Rolfe approached Chief Powhatan and Edward Wingfield. The two leaders were busy discussing plans as well as negotiating how to equitably split the bounty between the Powhatans and settlers after the hunt. “Chief Powhatan, which of the two groups do you think I should go with?” Rolfe inquired.

“You’re not going anywhere,” interjected the governor. “John Rolfe, you are too well-liked by the townspeople and too good at calming their nerves for me to want you to risk your life in the wilderness with us. I’m going to need you to stay here and take charge of the colony in my place until I return. I’m going with Hunting Party #1 since I’ve been told I’m a very good shot.”

John Rolfe jerked back in shock. “M-me? You’re putting me in charge? Sir, I don’t know. That’s a lot of responsibility and I’m not sure if…” the English diplomat immediately began to protest.

Edward Wingfield put up a hand to silence the younger man. “It is only until I return. Don’t be so nervous. I’m sure you’ll be a natural at this. Besides, you’re a great public speaker. Just try to keep a mass hysteria or mutiny from happening while I’m away. If anyone can do that, it’s you.”

Pocahontas came up behind the British gentleman and put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, John. I’ll be here to help you if there is a problem with the townspeople,” she said reassuringly.

John Rolfe’s eyes widened. Then he abruptly drew his brows together and took her hand off of his shoulder, turning to face her with a stern expression. “No, you aren’t. After what happened this morning, I’m sending you back to Werowocomoco with your father for your own safety. I can’t guard you 24/7 and the townspeople are behaving in an unpredictable manner right now.”

Pocahontas frowned. “What? But John!”

“No buts!” he decreed.

Hearing this, Powhatan knitted his brows. “What happened this morning that you speak of?”

“Father, it was nothing. It…”

“It was not nothing!” John Rolfe retorted. “A few men accused Pocahontas of being the one responsible for what’s happened with Thomas West. They accused her of witchcraft. In England, witchcraft is a crime punishable by death. A man even tried to hurt her,” he explained.

_ “What?!” _ Powhatan roared. He took her by the wrist. “Daughter, you are coming with me.”

Pocahontas immediately protested, “But Father!”

“It’s decided. If this man says you might be in danger, I trust his judgment. Come,” he said.

Pocahontas pouted but followed her father to his dogsled nonetheless. She peered back over her shoulder and shot John Rolfe a petulant look, not happy about being told what to do by a couple of men. Rolfe glanced away and whistled, pretending not to notice. As they rode away on their dogsled, the diplomat peered back in their direction and smiled. He was not looking forward to Pocahontas getting mad at him later, but at least he knew she would be safe for now.

Once Powhatan, Kekata, and the search and hunting parties had all departed, John Rolfe found himself surrounded by a crowd of frightened men, women, and children. The questions soon came pouring in from all sides and no one seemed interested in giving him time to answer.

“Lord Rolfe, what did they say happened to James Read?”

“Lord Rolfe, is the beast going to come back?”

“Please, Lord Rolfe, my wife and I are hungry and we’re out of food!”

“I can’t make milk for my baby without food, Lord Rolfe!”

“Can we slaughter a horse, Lord Rolfe? It’s all we’ve got!”

“Please, Lord Rolfe, are you sure there isn’t an emergency supply anywhere?”

“My boy child is hungry! He hasn’t eaten since yesterday!”

It was only noon and a great headache was already making John Rolfe feel like his brain was trying to break through his skull. Hungry, miserable, and yet unwillingly the center of attention, he could scarcely think of answers to all the questions even if the people had given him time to say them. “Everyone, everyone! Please be calm!” Rolfe decreed, holding up his hands. The crowd fell silent, which rather surprised him. Then he cleared his throat. “You may not like this, but I’ve got no choice in the matter. You are all ordered to unlock your doors to allow for inspection. The guards will take whatever food remains in the settlement and distribute it to the neediest. Growing children cannot survive long without food, so they are the top priority!”

There were both shouts of protest as well as shouted thank yous, which appeared to come from the mothers of hungry children. “I’m sorry, but grown men and women who are neither pregnant nor nursing aren’t allowed to eat until the hunting parties return with food. First, you are all to go home and unlock your doors. Then you are to proceed to the church where we will pray together for God to relieve our hunger pangs. Our hopes all rest with the Almighty. Now, go!”

…

**MARCH 20, 1614**

While the weather had remained mild, it had gotten cold again. The settlement still had not heard back from the hunting parties, though the search parties had returned with a disturbing discovery. They had followed the beast’s tracks far north before giving up. Upon the return trip, a man just happened to catch a glance of something lying atop the snow that no one had noticed before: a human pointer finger. The color suggested that it had belonged to a man of European descent.

When they had returned and presented the discovery to Sylvia Read, she had screamed at the top of her lungs louder than John Rolfe had heard in some time. Apparently, a birthmark near the cuticle of the fingernail was enough evidence to confirm that the extremity belonged to none other than Mrs. Read’s now-late husband, James Read. A funeral was planned for him, which was to take place when the hunting parties returned. The only pre-built coffins available were sized for infants and nobody had the strength or energy to build an adult-sized one. Without any better options,  James Read’s finger ended up getting stored for burial in a baby-sized coffin.

John Rolfe was starting to feel the anxiety that the interim governor had been feeling for some time. The days-long famine had severely worn everyone down, especially the members of the search parties who had come home famished. What remained of the food that had been collected from the homes of the townspeople was being stored under lock and key in the town hall cellar. Once a day, mothers would come to prepare food for all the children in the town hall kitchen. Children and women with child would, in turn, eat their meager meals in the drawing room to ensure that the remaining food went only to those who needed it most. John Rolfe knew it would only be a matter of time before the people would start to riot. A great deal of discontentment was being sown around the settlement, spreading rapidly like the pox or the bubonic plague.

The weather had just turned icy again midday while everyone was at church praying for relief to come from God. When they finally got out of church hours later, the wind chilled everyone to the bone. They quickly returned to their homes to rest and reserve their energy. It was past dark on the 20th of March and John Rolfe was in the town hall office, fighting his hunger pangs to see to the care of the colony. The man in charge always had a great deal of paperwork to take care of. It included all the financials for the colony, especially taxes to be collected for the king.

Tax collection was always reviled by the populace, but it was a matter that could not be ignored lest there be serious consequences. Furthermore, John Rolfe had had to take over directly from Edward Wingfield, who was not a man well-known for his lovely penmanship. Some of his numbers were hard or impossible to read, so the Englishman felt obligated to return to the houses of the subjects involved to question them about their expenses and income all over again.

It was the biggest pain of John Rolfe’s adult life and he hated having to do it. No wonder Edward Wingfield had been so distressed lately, the English diplomat thought. Previously, Rolfe had had absolutely no idea how hard it really was to be the governor of a colony, even a small one like Jamestown. But, if he was honest with himself, the diplomat had to admit he would probably be feeling even worse physically-speaking if he had gone on the hunting expedition instead. Perhaps his brain had to do a ton of work, but at least his body was able to rest in the meantime.

Finally, when John Rolfe thought he could take no more of the hunger and the headaches, he growled loudly to himself and collapsed on the desktop. He kept bumping his head repeatedly against the oak until Francis Couper entered the room. “Would you like a cup of tea, sir?”

_ “Yus,” _ John Rolfe mumbled miserably into the wood.

Francis Couper patted him on the shoulder, which surprised him. John Rolfe peered up at the man, his auburn hair a complete mess. “Try not to worry, sir. I’m sure the hunting parties will return soon and Governor Wingfield along with them. Taxes aren’t due until the ship comes in, after all,” Mr. Couper said. His last sentence was perfectly punctuated by a massive boom.


	8. Becoming Ulkekahone

John Rolfe jumped up from his seat, rushed out of the office, and ran up the stairs to the master suite bedroom window. While it faced the waters of the James, it was too dark outside to see anything. Overcast skies at night meant that no natural light was available. However, when Rolfe squinted his eyes, he thought he could spot a tiny distant light in the dark.  _ It has to be the ship _ .

Francis Couper ran up beside him. “Is it the ship?”

“I think so,” John Rolfe replied. “It’s hard to say. Come, let’s go see.”

They went downstairs, put their winter clothes on, and made a beeline for the front door. Once they were outside on the portico, there were already several other people out there with candles and torches whispering amongst themselves. “Lord Rolfe, is it the ship?” someone called.

“I’m not sure,” John Rolfe called back. “It sounded like cannon fire. Come, let’s go out the back since the gates are frozen! Everyone, get ready to transport supplies inside the settlement!”

A few cheers were heard as more people flooded out of their homes. John Rolfe and Francis Couper shuffled to the broken section of wall as fast as they could without slipping on the ice. They rounded the outside of the fortress until they came to the frozen beach. Bits and pieces of ice flowed along with the gentle surf. Waiting on the dock, the growing crowd of townspeople watched as the light in the distance gradually grew brighter. Then the clouds parted just enough for a beam of moonlight to shine down on the white sails of three distinct galleon ships.

“Hurrah!” roared all the people of Jamestown at once. The clamorous noise was near deafening as the people started to cheer, sing, and dance in celebration of the ships’ arrival.

John Rolfe and Francis Couper had leapt into each other’s arms and were spinning around in circles before they even realized what they were doing. “It’s here! Our troubles are over, Lord Rolfe! Heaven’s answered our prayers!” the butler exclaimed, laughing in glee.

When they drew apart, John Rolfe was so happy that he dropped down on his knees and sent up a prayer of thanks immediately. When the ships drew near, the sailors on board called down to them, “Catch the line!” They chucked ropes over the side of the ship toward the dock. John Rolfe himself caught one of them and started pulling the first ship inward. The passengers of the  _ Susan Constant _ , the  _ Winifred _ , and the  _ Queen Anne _ all waved handkerchiefs at the crowd.

Voices cried out in glee. “Welcome, one and all!”

“The Mother Wiggins Inn is open for business!”

“Hurry, unload the food! We’re starved!”

“Quick! I haven’t eaten for days!”

“Please, the children are all very hungry! My baby needs milk!”

“New friends, I say!”

“Welcome to the New World!”

…

**MARCH 21, 1614**

The colonists were up for the rest of the night unloading the ships, getting the newcomers settled into the inn and homes as guests, and preparing a massive feast in celebration. The settlement was packed with people. The council even had to open the master suite in the town hall to house a couple of families. New homes would need to be built soon. By the time daylight came, the hungry original populace had sated its immense appetite. Most people soon fell into a deep sleep after that, but John Rolfe was not one of those individuals. He had far too much work to do. The first thing he did once daylight struck was to go straight to the Quincy residence. Meeko was still there with his stomach stuffed full, sleeping at the foot of Rebeccah’s bed. John Rolfe crept over, careful not to awaken the tired young girl. He gently picked Meeko up and brought him over to the fireplace, where he quietly roused the sleepy raccoon from his post-binge nap.

“Meeko,” John Rolfe whispered, “please wake up. I have an important duty for you.” The animal yawned, rubbed his eyes, and glanced up at John Rolfe. He cooed at the gentleman and crawled up out of his arms and onto his shoulder. Rolfe gave Meeko a pat on the side and then he handed the raccoon an envelope. “I need you to take this to Werowocomoco at once. I’m sure the people there are quite hungry, Pocahontas included, and we have plenty of food here,” he expressed.

Meeko nodded and took the envelope in his mouth. John Rolfe plodded over to the door, opened it, and walked out. He released Meeko at the broken back wall and told him to hurry. The animal hopped down and immediately ran off in the direction of Pocahontas’s village.

…

It did not take long for the Powhatans to respond to the breakfast call. It was only about an hour before John Rolfe could hear the sound of barking dogs approaching the settlement from inside the town hall. He rushed to put his winter clothes on and walked outside to greet them.

As the dogsleds approached, the first two people that John Rolfe saw were Pocahontas and Chief Powhatan. Sled after sled of warriors followed them. Rolfe stood in the town square as they rode up to him, dismounting their sleds. “John!” Pocahontas cried, running up to him. “I’m starved!”

John Rolfe smiled. “There’s a great feast in the town hall waiting for you. Come on.”

Once in the dining room, the hungry Powhatans began to devour everything. John Rolfe’s eyes popped open, not having realized how hungry they would be. He approached the chief. “Sir, just how low are you on food right now in your village?” the English diplomat inquired.

“Almost out. What we have is going to the children alone,” Powhatan replied, tearing another bite out of a bread roll. “I can’t thank you enough for sending that message earlier.”

“Ah, well. Thank goodness for the ships’ arrival! How much do you need to take back with you? Is it just your village that’s hungry or are there others as well? We have plenty to spare.”

Chief Powhatan’s eyes widened. “Most of the villages are almost out by now.”

John Rolfe looked surprised. “Oh! Well then, you better hurry up and finish so we can get the dogsleds loaded. We’ve got preserved meats, cheeses, flour for bread, and much more.”

“You’ll let us take food back with us?” Chief Powhatan asked.

John Rolfe frowned. “If your villages are starving, I haven’t much of a choice now, have I? But, regardless, it’s not a big deal because three supply ships came this time, not just one. I guess the Virginia Company wanted to load us up so they wouldn’t have to send more for a while. Also, I have some women baking fresh bread and pies in the kitchen right now. You should take all the bakery items home to your families first before heading out to deliver stuff to other villages. On that note, we can spare a horse and sleigh to help carry the extra supplies if you’d like. Since the rains packed the snow down, horses should have no problem traveling the path to your village.”

Chief Powhatan lowered the leg of lamb that he was eating. “I can’t thank you enough. When the ground thaws, we would all love to repay you by helping you plant your fields. It is the least we can do in return for this favor,” he offered. “We still have no idea when the hunting parties will get back or if they were even successful. Nor do we know when the fish run will start.”

The Englishman’s eyes widened. “Consider this repayment for saving our settlement several winters ago. If you’ve maize seeds to spare, we’ll accept them, but you needn’t expend labor to help us. We’ve got plenty of laborers now that a hundred new settlers have just arrived.”

Powhatan nodded again. “Very well. We will give you our spare seeds. Do you also intend to plant squash and beans this year? We can teach you how to cultivate them,” he indicated.

“Uh, sure. Why not?”

“John,” Pocahontas said, coming over with a big sandwich on her plate, “as I said before, I will also teach you how to harvest maple sap for syrup. There are a lot more things we can teach you aside from just how to cultivate the land and crops. We can teach you about fishing and hunting techniques as well as which mushrooms and other wild plants are safe to eat.”

“And those that are good for medicine,” Chief Powhatan added.

“Really? That’s wonderful. I’d love to archive all that knowledge. Oh! On that note, we can also offer some of our knowledge in exchange for yours. We have got blacksmiths and carpenters and glass-makers and many other artisans here. Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes,” Powhatan replied. “In fact, I’ll tell you what we’d most like to learn.”

John Rolfe appeared eager. “Mm-hmm?”

“We’d like to know how you make those fire-sticks of yours. I imagine it’s a very difficult craft.”

Pocahontas nodded her agreement with her father. “That would be good to know.”

“Well, if that’s what you want to know, then you’re in luck. Jamestown just so happens to have its very own gunsmith who goes by the name of Mr. Kellam Spurling. Now, I’d be glad to ask Mr. Spurling on your behalf. However, I think it’s more important that you learn how to operate the firearms first. There’s no point in learning how to make something that you don’t know how to use,” John Rolfe pointed out. “When would you like me to come and teach the men to shoot?”

Powhatan returned, “When the ice starts to thaw and the fish run starts. That is when I will bring my werowances to sign the new peace treaty. It will be around the time of the spring festival.”

John Rolfe’s eyes lit up. “Spring festival? That sounds fun.”

“It is fun, John!” Pocahontas chimed. “The spring festival is almost as fun as the fall festival. We don’t travel between villages, but there will be singing and dancing. It is also a time when young warriors bring the first flowers of the season to the women they love. It is a time of romance and courtship, as well as rebirth and renewal of the land. It ends when planting begins.”

John Rolfe scratched his jaw. “Is there a summer festival as well?”

“Yes, it is the first harvest festival,” Chief Powhatan indicated. “It lasts about five days.”

“Ah, I can’t wait,” John Rolfe remarked.

The chief said something in Powhatan to his warriors. They started packing the rest of the food. He turned his attention back to John Rolfe. “We will need the sleigh that you promised to bring enough back to our families. I know the women and children are famished as well,” he said.

“I’ll go get it straight away,” John Rolfe returned. “We’ll meet up in the town square.” He turned his attention to the butler. “Mr. Couper, accompany the Powhatans and let Bill Bates know that they have the governor’s permission to take as much food as they need for their villages.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the butler. He beckoned the Powhatans to follow him once they finished packing up the rest of the feast. “The women just finished making bread and pies. You’ll want to collect those as well before you leave, I’m sure. Right this way, sirs and madam.”

When the Powhatans had disappeared, John Rolfe put on his winter clothes and made straight for the stable. He could not help but think the horses lucky to have gotten away with their lives. Had the ship arrived just a couple days later, they would have had no choice but to start slaughtering the equines for food. Rolfe loved horses and that would have been a painful experience for him.

“Ben,” John Rolfe greeted once he arrived at the stable. “How are you doing, my friend?”

“Much better now that I’ve had something to eat!” the much-happier-than-usual Scotsman jested. “Thank you so much for asking, John. What can I do ye for? You need to rent a horse or what?”

John Rolfe grinned. “I need Midnight and the sleigh again. The Powhatans are out of food. I’m going to deliver some to their village. We’ll need to carry a lot and the sleigh is perfect for that.”

“They ran out of food too?” Ben blurted, receiving a nod. “Wow! For some reason, I figured they were better off than we were. I guess we were really in about the same bad place, eh?”

John Rolfe nodded. “Yes. Fortunately, we’re now in a position to repay them for all the help they gave to us in the bad winter of 1609 to 1610. They have been very appreciative.”

“Aye!” Ben replied. “I remember that. I was horrible! A fire wiped out the last of our food stores mid-winter. We never would’ve made it to spring without the help of the Powhatans.”

“I wasn’t there, but I heard it was dreadful. Anyway, if you wouldn’t mind preparing the sleigh, meet me with it in the town square as soon as you can. The women and children in the village of Werowocomoco are completely famished from what I’ve heard,” John Rolfe expressed.

Ben nodded. “Aye, aye, my friend.”

…

Once their dogsleds were packed to the brim with all manner of foodstuffs, Chief Powhatan and his warriors left for Werowocomoco. Powhatan had given in to Pocahontas’s pleas to let her stay behind and help John Rolfe with packing the sleigh. Rolfe himself had promised to deliver the extra food items to the village, so he sent the Powhatans on ahead of him. It took longer to load the sleigh since it was bigger than the dogsleds, but Pocahontas was there to help. Once it was full, Rolfe lifted her onto Midnight’s back and hopped on behind her. “I think we’re ready,” he declared, peering back to check the preparations. He turned back and snapped the reins.

Off they went over the ice. By the time they reached the village, the dogsleds had been unloaded and people were busy cooking and eating inside their homes. John Rolfe directed the sleigh toward Powhatan’s abode and stopped outside, hopping down from the horse’s back. He turned back to help Pocahontas down as well. “Father! Father, we’re here!” she cried, running inside.

John Rolfe stared after her before smiling and shaking his head. He got to work removing the burlap flap from atop the sleigh. It was less than a minute before several warriors came outside to help him unload. Pocahontas and Chief Powhatan followed behind them. “I’m glad you made it,” Powhatan remarked, walking up beside John Rolfe as he and the other men unloaded.

John Rolfe stopped what he was doing, allowing the warriors to continue the work. He turned his attention to Chief Powhatan. “Sir, how do you plan to distribute the food to the other villages?”

“Let us worry about that,” Chief Powhatan replied, placing his hand on John Rolfe’s upper back and directing him toward the longhouse. “Let the warriors take care of this. They have more than enough energy to do it now that they’ve eaten something. Please, come into my home. There is another matter that needs to be discussed. We will smoke the peace pipe as we talk.”

Pocahontas stared after them, unable to suppress a smile. She thought it would be wise to let the two men talk by themselves without her interference. The young Powhatan princess stood there on the ice, feeling giddier than she had in a while. She started to wonder when John Rolfe would approach her father with his proposal. Pocahontas was feeling more confident than ever about the chief’s response. She headed in the direction of Chogan and Nakoma’s hut. “Hey, Nakoma!”

“Come in, Pocahontas,” replied the other Powhatan woman, rolling down the woven mat door covering. “We just finished eating. You’re welcome to have some leftovers,” Nakoma offered.

Pocahontas smiled as she entered. “Thank you, but I already stuffed myself. I just wanted to extend a visit because I have something important that I want to tell you. Chogan, the sleigh of food just arrived and the other warriors might need your help to unload the supplies and deliver them on dogsled to the other villages,” Pocahontas quickly informed the brave.

The warrior hopped up immediately. “Of course, I’ll go help. See you, Pocahontas.”

Pocahontas sat down on Chogan’s sitting mat right next to her best friend, who was still nibbling on the leftovers. “Mm. I’m so glad that the settlers were nice enough to share with us. I was getting worried about Chogan. He’s been giving me all the meat he catches and I noticed he was starting to get thinner and thinner,” she said. “Now, what did you want to tell me?”

Pocahontas felt nervous, but she steeled herself. If the Quincys could be trusted with her secret, then so could her childhood friend. “Before I tell you, I need you to swear not to tell anyone else until I say it’s okay. For now, it needs to remain a secret. Can you do that for me, Nakoma?”

Nakoma pulled the corners of her lips downward worriedly. “It’s not something bad, is it?”

Pocahontas shook her head. “Quite the opposite. I’m very excited about it.”

That response turned Nakoma’s frown upside-down in an instant. “Oh, really? Great! What is it then?” she inquired, raising a cup of water to her mouth to wash down her meal.

Pocahontas smiled and took a deep breath. “It is precisely this. There is a man who is soon going to ask my father for my hand in marriage. If Father says yes, I’m getting married!” As Nakoma drank, the water spurted out her nose and into the fire, causing it to crackle. She coughed and Pocahontas panicked. “Oh no! I’m sorry, Nakoma, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she apologized, clapping her friend’s back to help clear her airway. “It is meant to be good news.”

Nakoma coughed a few more times, wiped her mouth, and then looked up at Pocahontas with star-struck eyes. “It  _ is _ good news, Pocahontas!” she blurted. “But who is the man?”

Pocahontas had a coy look on her face as she twiddled her thumbs. “Guess.”

Nakoma scratched her chin. “I assume it isn’t John Smith since you already told me you would not marry him. Is that still a correct assumption?” the heavily-pregnant woman inquired.

Pocahontas nodded. “It’s not him.”

“Then it’s Naganwaya, isn’t it? I knew it! You’re all he ever talks about!” Nakoma proclaimed. “Oh, Pocahontas, I’m so happy for you! I mean, he’s so handsome and strong and brave!”

Pocahontas’s eyes widened. “What? Nagan… No, no, it isn’t him. Wait, he talks about me?”

Nakoma looked confused. “It isn’t him?” Pocahontas shook her head. The pregnant woman appeared to be thrown for a loop. “Seriously? I was so sure that it had to be him. Chogan says he’s always talking about how you’ve become such a perfect woman since you came back from London. I mean, he hasn’t said he plans to ask for your hand, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Pocahontas crinkled her face. “A perfect woman? I don’t know about that. It’s nice of him to say, I guess. But, honestly, it seems a little idealistic. I have met someone who sees me for me.”

Nakoma raised an eyebrow. “And who is that?”

“Guess!”

“I can’t, Pocahontas!” Nakoma laughed. “I haven’t a clue.”

“Alright, alright!” Pocahontas finally conceded. “It’s John Rolfe. We’ve been wanting to get married since we left the London port. That’s the real reason he came back here.”

Nakoma gasped. “Oh, spirits! It all makes sense now. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Pocahontas frowned slightly. “I’m sorry. I should have. I guess I was just nervous. The only other people who know are my aunt Oppusquinuske and the Quincy family. They’re all very supportive. For a while, I was worried that my father wouldn’t give his consent, but I’m starting to feel better about that. He seems to have warmed up to John Rolfe a lot lately.”

“Well, he did just give us all this food!” Nakoma blurted back. “Wow… I admit I had no idea, Pocahontas. I never would have guessed that you were romantically involved with a settler who wasn’t John Smith. Oh! But that is kind of good news though. If you marry John Rolfe and stay here, peace between our people and the settlers should last for a very long time. Maybe even generations or more. Diplomatically speaking, it sounds like a match made by the Great Spirit.”

“It is! But it’s not just going to be a diplomatic marriage. There are great advantages, but John Rolfe and I are also in love! He risked his life repeatedly to protect me during our voyage. Not because he felt obligated to, but because he loves me. That’s why he did all those things.”

Nakoma put her hands on her hips and lowered her brows in a mock-scolding manner. “Well, now I want to hear the whole story over again, but I want to hear the full truth this time.”

“The only one I’ve told the full truth to is Grandmother Willow, but she’s only heard the first half of the story so far. The full truth takes much longer to tell!” Pocahontas disclosed.

“Well, tell me the first half right now and then we can both go see Grandmother Willow at some point. We can both hear the second half of the story at the same time,” Nakoma proposed.

Pocahontas laughed. “Well, alright. It goes like this…”

…

Back in the chief’s longhouse, Powhatan had gathered the village elders. They all sat in a circle around the central fire. John Rolfe sat to Chief Powhatan’s left and Naganwaya to his right. After taking a puff, an elder woman with gray braided hair passed the peace pipe over to John Rolfe. He examined the beautifully-carved item carefully and then brought the mouthpiece to his lips just as he had seen the others do. The moment the diplomat drew in a breath, he started to cough harshly. The taste was bitter, but Rolfe felt his heart speed up as the effects of the drug took hold.

“Wow, that’s powerful,” the Englishman remarked as he handed the pipe back to Powhatan.

“It takes some getting used to. We use the tobacco both medicinally and ceremonially. Right now, we smoke together to seal the alliance between our two nations,” the chief explained.

John Rolfe nodded. “I see.”

“Other than that, I brought you here because Kekata intends to…” Chief Powhatan began, only to be cut off by the loud sound of a clamor coming from outside. The dogs started barking again.

A warrior poked his head in the room. He said something in a hurried tone to Powhatan.

Chief Powhatan’s eyes widened as Naganwaya jumped up from his seat, holding his bow. “Suquerath riuroughta,” Powhatan said, rising to his feet. He took his place on his throne bench.

John Rolfe looked up in interest, not knowing what was being said. But he recognized the name ‘Oppusquinuske.’ It was not long before the aforementioned chieftess was shown into the longhouse. The Englishman recognized her immediately. She did not notice him at first as she turned her attention directly to the throne, speaking to the chief in a panicked tone of voice. Chief Powhatan was immediately alarmed. He spoke back to her in Powhatan. The conversation continued until John Rolfe really started to get curious as to what it was about. Chief Powhatan gritted his teeth and said something in a serious tone of voice. Oppusquinuske shook her head and replied. She seemed to be pleading with the chief over a serious matter.

Suddenly, the chief’s demeanor brightened. “Aluquen quey satorat!” he blurted, gesturing to John Rolfe. While they were talking too fast for him to understand any of the words, the Englishman recognized the instant he became the center of attention. He blinked in confusion and curiosity. The chief said something else hurriedly, causing the chieftess to appear grateful.

“Sequiotiroen, Mamanatowick Powhatan. Deliquirotequen ontiron sluvarinatovain,” replied the chieftess. She turned around, catching sight of the familiar white face. “Quey sinceretat!”

John Rolfe returned a smile to the familiar woman and waved to her. “Wingapi, Werowansqua Oppusquinuske,” the Englishman quickly greeted. He turned his attention to Chief Powhatan, switching back to English. “Sir, is she alright? Pocahontas’s aunt appears to be flustered.”

“No, she is not alright. Her people were attacked by our enemies,” Chief Powhatan replied. “They are starving now. They were kicked off their land and left with no food.”

The gentleman’s jaw almost dropped to the ground. “What? That’s awful! Should I go get more supplies? We still have plenty to spare,” Rolfe offered, looking worriedly at the chieftess.

“Yes, please do that immediately. This is an emergency. We need to get food to those people as soon as possible. They are predominantly women and children,” Powhatan returned. “Many of her warriors were slaughtered in the attack. Unfortunately, this means war for our people.”

The Englishman hopped up. “Alright then,” he replied. Chief Powhatan and the elders followed him outside. The sleigh had been emptied and was ready to go. John Rolfe quickly hopped up onto the horse’s back. He waved goodbye. “Fare thee well. I shall soon return!”

The Powhatans waved goodbye as he departed. The chief turned to Oppusquinuske. “He’s going to get more supplies for us. He shouldn’t take long at all. That man has proven himself to be very reliable thus far,” the chief expressed in Powhatan, placing a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

…

It took about two hours to get to Jamestown and back with more supplies. By the time John Rolfe returned, his exhaustion had started to catch up with him. Rubbing his eyes, he hopped down from the horse’s back as Chief Powhatan, Oppusquinuske, Kekata, and the others came outside to greet him. “Ah, you’re back!” Powhatan remarked, raising a brow. “You look tired.”

“Yes, sir. The ships came in last night and everyone was up all night unloading them and getting the new folks settled. Is it alright if I turn over the sleigh to one of your warriors and have him bring it to the needy villages instead? You don’t really need my help with that, do you?”

“Of course not,” Powhatan replied, waving Naganwaya to do as the white man had asked. “My head warrior will deliver the supplies for us. Please, come back inside. You can rest here.”

John Rolfe seemed hesitant. “I don’t know, sir. I wouldn’t want anyone to get worried and think that I’ve gone missing, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to rest here for a few hours,” the diplomat uttered, lacking the energy needed to travel back to Jamestown by himself anyway.

“Yes, come,” Chief Powhatan said. He had his wife Sooleawa and younger daughters prepare a bed for John Rolfe. The Englishman collapsed pretty much immediately and did not stir. Even though someone tried to wake him before nightfall, he did not respond. After checking the man’s breathing and pulse, Powhatan decided that it would be best for him to stay until the morning.

…

**MARCH 22, 1614**

When John Rolfe stirred early the next morning, he was completely disoriented and had no idea what time it was or how long he had been there. Sooleawa and a pair of identical twin girls were cooking breakfast around the fire, though it could have been dinner for all Rolfe knew at first.

The English diplomat sat up in bed and rubbed his sleep-flushed face. He spotted Pocahontas, who was asleep in a bed on the opposite side of the longhouse. She was not the only one asleep, which caused him to wonder about the time. Pocahontas rested on her side with Meeko curled up on her hip and Percy on the foot of the bed. Flit was nesting in Meeko’s soft gray fur.

“Wingapo,” greeted one of the twin daughters of Sooleawa and Chief Powhatan in a shy voice.

John Rolfe had glanced the five-year-old girls when he and Pocahontas had first gotten back to Werowocomoco, but he did not know either of their names. “Wingapo,” he said, returning the greeting. Unfortunately, he could not for his life remember how to ask someone what their name was. He did recall the name of Pocahontas’s aunt and stepmother though, as Pocahontas had spoken about the woman fairly often. According to Pocahontas, her maternal aunt and father had tied the knot two years before the founding of Jamestown. In England, it was not customary to marry the younger sister of one’s deceased wife, but it was here. It was not expected, of course, but it was a common practice and Rolfe did not find anything objectionable about it.

Sooleawa glanced over her shoulder, smiled, and said something to one of her daughters. The girl hopped up to get a sitting mat and cushion and used them to prepare a place for John Rolfe to sit right next to the chief’s wife. Sooleawa beckoned him to join them, which he did.

They sat silently as Sooleawa prepared another plate. When she handed it to Rolfe, he said the Powhatan word for ‘thank you’ that Pocahontas had taught him, “Kleraughtera soertak.” The woman smiled and nodded. John Rolfe glanced around and saw no sign of the chief. He turned back to Sooleawa. “Tawnor nehiegh Powhatan?” he asked concerning the chief’s whereabouts.

“O quiocosin,” Sooleawa replied.

John Rolfe widened his eyes, surprised that he had actually understood that answer. A quiocosin, according to Pocahontas, was a temple. The Englishman figured that Powhatan had to be talking to his medicine man and/or priests. He nodded his understanding and stretched his back.

Just as he finished breakfast, John Rolfe heard a soft sound come from Pocahontas behind him. He glanced back just as she flopped over onto her belly. Meeko hopped down and came over to smell the breakfast items that the chief’s wife and daughters had made. Sooleawa prepared a bowl for her niece’s prized raccoon. Meanwhile, Percy was feeling more lazy than hungry. He glanced up briefly and then went back to sleep. Flit buzzed over to land on Rolfe’s shoulder. The diplomat thought Pocahontas had fallen back asleep, but she rubbed her eyes. “Pocahontas?”

“Morning, John,” Pocahontas returned, yawning. Her eyes were still closed as she stretched.

“Ogswat,” Sooleawa suddenly said, addressing one of her own young daughters, “spaughtynere keragh noshke kekate wawgh peyguaugh. Utteke e peya weyack wighwhip.”

Ogswat stood up and ran out of the longhouse. Meanwhile, several other family members had begun to rise and take their places around the fire, including Pocahontas. John Rolfe peered over to her as Pocahontas prepared herself a place by his side. “Pocahontas, is it morning? Did I stay here all night?” Rolfe inquired, glancing up through the smoke hole to see the sparse light.

Pocahontas yawned again. “Yes. Of course, it’s morning. Father tried to rouse you last night, but it was impossible. We had to check your breathing to make sure you were still alive.”

John Rolfe’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

Pocahontas nodded. “You had me very worried at first.”

“Well, I need to hurry and return to Jamestown. Some people are bound to notice my absence. I don’t want anyone to send out search parties,” John Rolfe worriedly remarked, rising to his feet.

Sooleawa grabbed him by the wrist, encouraging him to sit back down. “Jahn Ralfe, Powhatan e Kekata peyan wawgh zibetaquen. Nehawpus,” she said, pointing to the way the girl had left.

John Rolfe raised a brow and turned to Pocahontas. “What did she say about your father and Kekata?” he inquired, having missed some of the words. “Do they want to see me?”

“Yes,” Pocahontas replied. “They want to hold a renaming ceremony for you. It was what they were going to do yesterday before my other aunt showed up so unexpectedly.”

John Rolfe looked confused. “A renaming ceremony? What is that?”

“Kekata is going to give you a name,” she explained.

Rolfe frowned. “A name? Why? I’ve already got one.”

“It’s an honor, John. People here receive new names throughout their lives in recognition for their deeds. You saved our people from hunger and my father wants to honor you for that.”

“Oh. You mean like how you were born as Amonute?” he inquired.

Pocahontas nodded. “Precisely.”

“So where did your other aunt run off to? Were the warriors able to get the food to her people?” John Rolfe inquired in a concerned voice. “Tell them I’ll help any way that I can.”

Pocahontas smiled. “You’ve already done everything you need to do. I’m sure the food is almost to Hominy by now if it’s not there already. The survivors of the attack will be fine.”

“How many people were killed? Will your father need more guns to fight off the attackers? Will he need soldiers? We’ll do whatever we can to help,” John Rolfe immediately proclaimed.

Pocahontas giggled. “So many questions.” A few minutes later, Ogswat returned with Powhatan and all of the Powhatan elders and priests. “Father, John is in a hurry to get back to his people. He’s worried they might send out search parties,” Pocahontas told the chief in Powhatan.

Chief Powhatan raised an eyebrow. “In that case, we’ll get this done swiftly. Everyone up and go sit on the benches away from the fire,” he instructed before switching to English. He sat on his throne, caught John Rolfe’s eye, and beckoned him forward with a swift arm motion. “Come.”

With his brows raised in curiosity, John Rolfe rose from his seat and glanced around. He had become the center of attention and it was making him somewhat nervous. Other villagers, including warriors, were poking their heads into doorways to watch the goings-on. “What do I need to do, sir?” he inquired as he approached the throne where Powhatan was seated.

Kekata came over and turned John Rolfe to face him. Powhatan spoke, “Kneel in front of the medicine man,” he instructed. “Don’t worry, this will not take long. We know you’re in a hurry.” John Rolfe nodded and lowered himself down on a knee. He looked up at Kekata curiously as the man shook a turtle shell rattle over his head. The shaman closed his eyes and began uttering a melodic chant. _ “Now, he is asking the Great Spirit what name he intends for you. Kekata will open his eyes again when it comes to him,” _ Chief Powhatan explained in a hushed voice.

_ “Yes, sir,” _ John Rolfe returned, turning his attention back to the medicine man. The chant went up in pitch and then down again, up and down. It was a strange type of melody, though it went harmoniously with the continuous sound of the rattle. The Englishman could see the old man was entering a trance, so he stayed perfectly quiet to avoid distracting the elder. While Rolfe waited, the chant gradually dissipated into nothingness. Kekata stopped moving. He stood perfectly still, his face cast to the heavens through the smoke hole. His arms and rattle fell limp to his sides.

John Rolfe swallowed in mild apprehension and cast a glance toward Pocahontas, who was sitting on one of the benches. She flashed him a smile and put a finger to her lips. He looked up again just as the shaman’s eyes snapped open. “Ruhwuepkus Ulkekahone!” Kekata declared.

Pocahontas and the children jumped up and cheered. Powhatan rose to his feet. “Your name is Ulkekahone. Henceforth, that is what you shall be called here in Werowocomoco. You may rise.”

Rolfe almost felt like he had been knighted. He stood up slowly as if he was in a trance himself. Pocahontas ran over to him. “Your name means ‘Favored by the Great Spirit,’” she told him.

John Rolfe’s eyes widened. “What? Seriously?”

Pocahontas nodded. “Isn’t it wonderful. I love the sound of it. Ulkekahone!”

“But that’s what John means in ancient Hebrew,” Rolfe related. “That’s rather uncanny.”

“Really?” Pocahontas uttered, amazed.

John Rolfe nodded. “That’s precisely what it means.” Pocahontas looked like she was about to say something else, but John Rolfe took hold of her biceps. “Pocahontas, tell me. How is your brother doing? Is he recovering? I’ve been meaning to ask after him,” Rolfe said.

“Yes, he is getting better slowly but surely. He hasn’t started walking again just yet though,” Pocahontas indicated as the crowd began to disperse. “But he is healing and eating well now that you’ve given us so much food. I’m sure he will take his first steps later this spring. John, can you come back to Werowocomoco later today? After you’ve reassured everyone that you’re not lost, there are some things I’d like to talk to you about. They are important to me.”

“Of course,” John Rolfe replied as he started putting on his winter gear. Pocahontas followed suit. Once they were dressed, they went outside and headed toward the stable. “Pocahontas, do you mind if I borrow your horse? Snow Angel is probably still afraid of the settlement since she doesn’t know that Thomas West is gone. I’m going to try to train the fear out of her later.”

“Yes, please use Opileskiwan. If Snow Angel throws you this time, you’ll land on hard ice.”

“Precisely what I was afraid of,” Rolfe replied. When they arrived at the stable, Snow Angel and Opileskiwan were cuddled up together as usual in the hay. Rolfe chuckled. “Hey, Snow Angel. I understand why you’re afraid to go to Jamestown now, love, so I’m going to have to borrow your gentleman friend this time. Is that alright with you, my dear?” the Englishman beseeched.

Pocahontas opened the stable door and whistled for Opileskiwan. “Come, boy.”

Both horses rose to their feet and the stallion trod out of the stable. Pocahontas went ahead and filled up their trough with fresh hay. Snow Angel seized the opportunity and started chewing on the food offerings. John Rolfe smiled as the gray horse strode up to him. He patted the male on the side. “Hello, Opileskiwan. Would you be so kind as to give me a ride to town this morning?” Opileskiwan licked Rolfe straight up the left side of his face, making his fringe stick straight up into the sky. “I say!” Rolfe protested. Pocahontas laughed and received a momentary glare as the diplomat tried to fix his hair. It was all gooey with horse drool, but he did the best he could.

Pocahontas brought over the leather saddle. “I want you to use a saddle this time because of the ice,” she indicated, hefting it up and over Opileskiwan’s back. “You’ll be less likely to fall off,” Pocahontas added as she strapped the saddle into place under the stallion’s belly.

“If you insist,” John Rolfe teasingly replied. Once the saddle and bridle were ready, he mounted the horse and started off in the direction of Jamestown. He had not gotten far when he heard the distinct sound of ululations and cheers. Pocahontas walked up behind him as they gazed down the hill. Hunters bearing deer carcasses on their backs were crossing the frozen river on their dogsleds. Naganwaya was leading them. He waved as villagers flooded out of their huts.

“Oh!” Pocahontas exclaimed. “The hunters have returned. Maybe the men you sent out as well have returned to Jamestown. You go find out while I help the hunters prepare the deer!”

John Rolfe grinned. “It’s about time! I was getting worried,” he indicated, giving Opileskiwan a tap on the flank with his heel. The horse immediately trod off in the direction of Jamestown.

Pocahontas made her way down the icy hill to meet the hunters. “Pocahontas!” he called when he saw her, hopping off his sled. He took the massive deer carcass in the cargo hold and slung it over his shoulders. “Look, we finally have food again. I’ll bet you are starved, aren’t you?”

The Powhatan princess gave him an impish grin. “Actually, no. The ships came in while you were away, but we can sure use these bucks for the spring festival! I’m glad to see your hunt was such a success. How many did you catch in total with the settlers?” she inquired.

Naganwaya’s jaw dropped. “Did you say ‘ships’?”

Pocahontas nodded, walking alongside him as he headed toward his house. “Yes, three ships came to Jamestown, so now we have plenty of food. And all this venison is going to be a delicious addition to the spring festival feast. I can’t wait! Aren’t you excited?” she asked. In fact, Naganwaya actually looked disheartened at the news. His downtrodden demeanor surprised Pocahontas at first. She started to wonder if perhaps he had gotten his hopes up that he would somehow become known as a savior, having led the successful group hunt which had rescued the village from early spring starvation. “Don’t look so unhappy, Naganwaya. You did an excellent job. You and the others should be proud. It doesn’t matter that we already have food here. Now, we have even more. Everyone is going to be proud of you, especially my father.”

Naganwaya looked up. “You think?” he said, asking for reassurance. Pocahontas nodded without a moment’s hesitation. “Ah, well, good. In that case, I’m glad that everyone has been fed. To be honest, I’m surprised that your prediction came true. I was convinced the settlers would not share. So what kind of food did they give us anyway?” he asked, glancing around the village. As he arrived at the flat boulder outside his home, he dropped the buck that he had been carrying like a sack of potatoes. It had already been gutted, but now was the time to finish the skinning.

The other hunters did the same as they arrived at their own abodes. Pocahontas smiled again. “Oh, they gave us tons of bread and flour and cheese and hams. All kinds of tasty things. Would you like me to go get you some or have you had something to eat already?”

Naganwaya shook his head. “The other hunters and I feasted on the organ meats last night and earlier this morning. Believe me, we were very hungry by the time we actually found the herd.”

“I can imagine,” Pocahontas returned.

“Anyway, Pocahontas, I’ve been meaning to ask you a quick question,” the warrior indicated with a subtle smile as he skinned the dead animal. “What is your favorite color?”

The question immediately caught Pocahontas off-guard. “My favorite color? Why?”

“Hm? Oh, um…” Naganwaya began hesitantly. “It’s just that some of the other warriors and I have a bet going about which colors the women of our village like the best. That’s all.”

Pocahontas narrowed her eyes slightly. Naganwaya was not a very good liar, but she refrained from pointing that out to him for the sake of etiquette. “Right. Well, I guess I’m kind of torn between blue and reddish brown, although I’m also fond of leafy green and sunflower yellow.”

Naganwaya grinned. “Perfect! Okay, thanks for letting me know,” he said as he finished skinning the left side of the deer. The warrior turned it over to get started on the other side.

Pocahontas narrowed her eyes even more, though he was not actually looking at her.  _ Hm, I wonder what that question was  _ really _ about, _ she pondered, remembering the thing that Nakoma had told her. She started to get worried that the brave might actually be in love with her, dreading the thought of having to break someone’s heart. “Right. Well, I’m going to go ask my father if I can venture out and collect some maple sap. I’ll see you later, Naganwaya,” she said, leaving.

…

When John Rolfe returned to Jamestown, he quickly discovered that the hunting parties had indeed returned with quite a bounty and they were all overjoyed that three ships had arrived in their absence. Though they had shot almost twenty bucks, it still would not be enough to feed the settlement as a whole for very long at all. Rolfe quickly went to find the interim governor to congratulate him on the successful hunt. The first place he looked was the town hall, which was full of people. They all stopped and stared the moment he entered the foyer.

John Rolfe flushed slightly as Francis Couper closed the door behind him, shutting out the cold. “Um, hello, gentlemen. Is Edward Wingfield in?” the diplomat calmly inquired.

“Lord Rolfe!” several men cried at once, rushing toward him.

One man put his hands on Rolfe’s shoulders and shook him. “We thought you’d gone missing!”

“Where’ve you been? The innkeeper said you never returned last night!”

“Are you alright? The stable master said you’d gone to Werowocomoco!”

“The governor was just about to send someone to the Indian village!”

John Rolfe put up his hands to silence everyone. “It’s nothing really, my friends. I stayed the night in the village. Not purposefully, mind you. The Powhatans tried to wake me up at nightfall, but I was apparently insensible to the world from sheer exhaustion. I’m alright now, though.”

The crowd parted for Edward Wingfield to come through. “Lord Rolfe, you had us worried. It’s a great relief that you came as soon as you could. Now we don’t have to worry about sending out search parties and we can move on to more enjoyable pursuits. I’d like to see you in the office right quick if you don’t mind,” the governor said, coming to place a hand on Rolfe’s shoulder.

“Certainly, governor,” John Rolfe replied, following Edward Wingfield to the office as the other men started to disperse. Francis Couper went to open the door for the two of them.

A large fire was burning in the hearth inside. Edward Wingfield sat at his desk. “I just wanted to tell you that you did an excellent job with the paperwork while I was gone. I’m sure I’ll be able to complete the colony’s taxes before the ships set sail again, thanks to you. Now, it has come to my attention that you’ve given the Powhatans a substantial portion of the supplies that came. Is this correct?” the interim governor inquired. “We need to keep a record of what goes where.”

“Yes, sir. They were starving. Fortunately, they’ve offered to open up an information exchange in return for our generosity. They are going to teach us all about the land and how to farm it. Plus, they will provide us with seeds for our fields. It is my duty as archivist to collect and record this information for the crown and our progeny who come to prosper in this land,” Rolfe explained.

“Excellent!” Edward Wingfield replied. “But did you record what was given to them?”

“Not on paper, sir, but I remember what went where. I will go see Bill Bates now and get it all down in written form for you. Once that is done, governor, I’d like to organize a party in a few days’ time. Once the fish run starts, which should be soon, the Powhatans are going to have their spring festival. This is a spiritual occasion for the Powhatan people, you see. Like us, they like to give thanks to the Lord for the bounty he has provided. Since he answered our prayers for food, I think it is only appropriate for us to follow their godly example and give thanks as well. In a few days, we should have a morning of church attendance followed by an afternoon celebration with the Powhatans. We will have a great feast and there will be lots of dancing and fun and games. What do you think? Since you’re a busy man, I’d be more than happy to organize the event.”

The governor had a thoughtful look on his face as he ran his fingers through his beard. “That’s a grand idea. I do remember how well you organized the Christmas party. You know, Lord Rolfe, until the king gets the chance to appoint some other poor sap to this gubernatorial role, I could really use a fellow like you as a right-hand man. It will take a while for the other councilors and me to earn the trust of the people and I think you can help us to do that. You always seem to know just what to say to appease the masses. Would you be willing to accept a promotion to the post of lieutenant governor? I hate to admit it, but I am really going to need a lot of help until a more permanent governor comes along and takes my place. What do you say to that?”

“If it’s for the good of the people and the alliance, then I accept,” John Rolfe said. “Now, is there anything critically important that you need of me right now? Otherwise, I promised that I would return to the Powhatan village later. Princess Pocahontas wants to see me.”

“No, that is all for now. But please record the supplies given to the Powhatans before you go.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll go see Bill Bates right away.”


	9. Breaking Tradition

In the early evening, Pocahontas rode Opileskiwan up the hill toward her father’s house. John Rolfe followed behind her on Snow Angel’s back. They had just returned from a pleasant ride through the icy forest, having crossed back over the frozen Pamunkey River. Glancing back, the Englishman noticed that the warriors appeared to be stacking massive bundles of firewood into the center of the gathering circle. Though the weather was still cool, it had finally warmed up enough for outdoor communal activities. When they reached the stable, they dismounted their horses and relieved the animals of their saddles. As Pocahontas was feeding them, John Rolfe got to work on brushing Snow Angel’s beautiful white winter coat. As he ran his fingers through the fur over her back, he noticed some raised areas which he could only guess were the scars left by the abominable Thomas West. The English gentleman gritted his teeth in anger.

“What’s wrong, John?” Pocahontas inquired, noticing his changed demeanor.

John Rolfe shook his head. “Nothing,” he replied, not wanting to make a big deal about a thing he could not change. Then he frowned. “I was just thinking about Baron West,” he admitted.

“What about him?” Pocahontas probed, curious as to what was going on in John Rolfe’s mind.

He sighed. “I was just thinking… if he ever has the nerve to come back here, I am absolutely going to slaughter him. I don’t care what it takes. The man was a monster long before he actually transformed into one, assuming that’s what happened. I just so deeply despise him.”

Pocahontas blinked at the ferocity of her beau’s words. “Well, I definitely don’t like him either.”

“Come, see what he did to Snow Angel,” the diplomat declared, beckoning her over. When she approached, he took one of her hands and directed her fingers to the raised ridges hidden beneath the mare’s winter coat. “Thomas West did that with a leather whip. He ought to be flayed.”

Pocahontas gasped. “That’s horrible! Poor Snow Angel!”

“I know. Thanks to that brute of a baron, it’s probably going to be very difficult to train the fear of Jamestown out of Snow Angel. If I was her, I would be right well terrified too!”

“Maybe if we bring Opileskiwan with us, he might make her feel safer while she’s there. I did notice that she kind of hides behind him sometimes like she sees him as a protector,” Pocahontas recalled. “I mean, he is a big strong stallion who Snow Angel appears to trust completely.”

John Rolfe’s visage brightened. “That’s not a bad idea at all, using one horse to train another. In fact, it’s brilliant! I’m surprised that I didn’t think of it,” he returned as he continued to brush the mare. Snow Angel appeared to be very much enjoying the grooming. She rested her head on the wall of the stable and released a whinnying sigh. Rolfe used his spare hand to scratch her behind the right ear. “What a sweet girl you are, Snow Angel. And so stunningly beautiful,” he lauded.

“This is a completely random question, John,” Pocahontas remarked, “but I’m wondering, how can you tell when a horse is pregnant? I mean what are the signs in the early stages?”

John Rolfe raised a brow. “There’s no way Snow Angel can be pregnant yet, Pocahontas. Mares don’t go into heat during the cold season. The reason, I presume, is because a foal’s gestation is about one year in length. The winter’s cold would be fatal to a newborn foal,” he explained.

“Ah,” Pocahontas replied, stroking Opileskiwan’s neck as he chewed on his hay.

John Rolfe grinned. “If she’s going to get pregnant at all, it’ll probably be later this spring. Do you really want a foal that badly, Pocahontas?” the gentleman inquired teasingly.

The corners of Pocahontas’s lips turned upward. “Well, I don’t know what baby horses look like. I really want to see one,” she admitted. “I imagine they’d be absolutely adorable.”

“Oh, they are,” John Rolfe confirmed. “Such fuzzy little things they are, but the mums and dads are very protective. So if you want Snow Angel and Opileskiwan to let you anywhere near their possible future offspring, I’d suggest doing everything you can to curry their favor now.”

Instead of replying to his remark, John Rolfe heard Pocahontas release a contented sigh.  _ “I love babies,” _ she mused, leaning in to give Snow Angel a hug around her well-muscled neck.

Instantly, John Rolfe found himself on high alert. He cleared his throat loudly. “Right, yes,” he announced, accidentally dropping the brush. “Um, so, sh-shall we go check out the festivities?” he hurriedly inquired, reaching down to retrieve the dropped item from the icy ground.

Pocahontas cocked a brow in puzzlement. “But they’re just getting set up. The food is cooking still and the music hasn’t even started,” she protested, wondering what the hurry was all about.

John Rolfe led Snow Angel into the stable and up to the feeding trough, putting away the horse brush with the rest of the tack. “Perhaps, but look!” he said, pointing. “Those children over there look bored. Maybe they want to play a game. Come on,” he insisted, shutting the stable door.

“Children?” Pocahontas uttered, glancing down the hill. There were two very young children that Pocahontas recognized, neither a day over six and a half years. Both of the kids were bundled up in winter gear. They were trying to play in the little snow that was left from the long winter. “Ah, that makes me think. We should introduce my people to ice-skating!” she declared.

“That might have to wait until next year,” John Rolfe returned, starting down the icy hill. “I get the feeling that the rest of this ice is going to be thawing very soon. Look at the icicles dripping from the tree branches. It probably would be a good idea to be careful when crossing the river from now on.” Pocahontas sighed and followed Rolfe. A moment later, the children looked up from what they were doing and saw the white man approaching. They both squealed and ran to hide. The diplomat stopped walking and frowned. “Ah, no! They’re afraid of me,” he lamented.

Pocahontas giggled and walked up to him. “The youngest children in the village tend to be the wariest of strangers. Don’t worry though. They will get over it as soon as they see that you’re not as scary as you look,” the Powhatan princess remarked teasingly, giving him a nudge.

The Englishman frowned. “I look scary? I didn’t mean to look scary!”

Pocahontas laughed out loud. “Not to me, you don’t. I was kidding. Now, hush. I’ll go get them.” She found one of the children hiding behind a house. Peeking around the house, she waved to the little boy who was no more than four years of age. “Chama wingapo, Uppes,” she greeted.

“Pocahontas!” cried the little boy, running over to her and giggling.

She picked Uppes up and propped him on a hip, turning to John Rolfe. “Vuniminu Ulkekahone.”

“Ulke?” the boy uttered, shoving his mitten-covered fingers in his mouth.

John Rolfe raised a brow. “I was hoping to show you one of the games I liked when I was his age, but I guess he’s a little too shy. It’s okay. I should probably head back to Jamestown before it gets dark anyway,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He started toward the river.

“Wait!” Pocahontas cried, putting Uppes down. “You’re not staying for the festivities?”

He peered at her. “Wha…? Do you want me to?” he asked.

Pocahontas nodded fervently. “It’ll be fun. Come on!”

Meanwhile, the little boy that Pocahontas had put down stood perfectly still as he stared up at John Rolfe with his drooly mitten in his mouth. The English gentleman glanced back down at the small child. “Do you… Do you think he’d let me spin him around, Pocahontas? He looks like he doesn’t know what to make of me,” the diplomat noted, not making any sudden movements to avoid frightening the boy. The kid tilted his head sideways as they kept staring at each other.

Pocahontas nudged Uppes forward. “Guepone o Ulkekahone,” she said.

The brown-eyed boy stumbled forward slightly and then looked back up at Pocahontas. When she pointed to John Rolfe, Uppes turned to look up at him again. Meanwhile, the young boy’s six-year-old sister glanced out from behind a nearby tree with a curious look on her face. Uppes pointed to Rolfe. “Ulke,” he repeated. John Rolfe knelt down and offered his hands to the child. Slowly and hesitantly, Uppes walked up to him and observed the bizarre white leather gloves that John Rolfe wore on his hands. They looked nothing like what people had in the village.

“Want to spin?” John Rolfe inquired. “Come on, give me your little hands,” he said enticingly. Instead of taking his hands, Uppes reached toward them and pulled one of the white gloves off. The Englishman blinked. First, the boy examined the glove and then he examined the hand itself. Rolfe rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on! Not this again. I know precisely where this is headed.”

Pocahontas laughed as John Rolfe gently took his glove back and put it on again. Then he took Uppes’s little mittened hands and rose to his feet. He pulled the boy up off the ground, much to the child’s surprise, and started to carefully spin him around and around and around. Instantly, the little boy started to squeal and giggle and scream. The Englishman spun him around a few times and then put him back down on his feet. At once, Uppes’s big sister came running out from behind the tree. She padded up to him and reached upward, asking to be spun as well. “Oia, Shumalee, denunta effirequen Ulkekahone,” Pocahontas remarked cheerfully.

Shumalee was not the only one to notice the fun Uppes had been having. Several children who had been observing from afar came running over, fighting for a turn. “Ah! Wait, I don’t have that much energy!” John Rolfe proclaimed as little hands reached up at him from all around.

“Too bad,” Pocahontas teased. “You got them excited. Now you deal with the consequences.”

“But I was just trying to show you the game I liked to play with my father when I was a boy!” Rolfe cried, making Pocahontas laugh. He made a sound of mock aggravation. “This reminds me of the time I made all the children scream at the same time in Siwili’s village by accident.”

“That’s exactly what I was remembering,” Pocahontas remarked as she walked up to Shumalee and spun her around, deciding to help John Rolfe out instead of just making fun of him. The six-year-old squealed and shrieked in delight. When Pocahontas stopped, the little girl wanted to go again immediately. The Powhatan princess shook her head. “How about they all get one spin and then we go help my aunt with cooking the feast? I’m looking forward to this evening.”

John Rolfe raised a brow at her as one of the children started to pull on his trousers. He had to clap his hands down fast to prevent them from descending his pelvis. “Alright, alright. Back up, small ones. You all get one spin,” the Englishman decreed, taking the next child by the hands.

After each child had been spun, naturally they all wanted more. But Pocahontas and John Rolfe drew the line and trudged off after giving the kids a few pats on the head. They returned to the chief’s house and helped Sooleawa cook up some dishes. Because the ingredients were different from what they were used to, they had to get a bit creative. Instead of corn dumplings, they made wheat flour dumplings and buttered them with deer suet from the successful hunt.

…

It was sunset by the time all the food was prepared and the bonfire in the village center had been lit. A loose circle of villagers gathered around the fire. Closest to Powhatan’s house was the chief himself and the shaman and elders. Women and children gathered together on one side of the circle and warriors gathered on the other. There was only some flute music playing at first. It was naturally everyone’s first prerogative to eat dinner. Pocahontas and Sooleawa sat between the women and the elders, relatively close to the former’s father. When Rolfe spotted Pocahontas, he plodded over and lowered himself onto a sitting mat at her side. “Hello again, Pocahontas.”

A loud whistling sound abruptly got their attention. When they glanced in the direction of the noise, some warriors appeared to be beckoning the Englishman toward them with full arm motions. John Rolfe raised a brow and glanced back at Pocahontas questioningly. Having noticed the warriors as well, Pocahontas smiled at him. “Go on, John,” she said encouragingly, giving him a nudge in their direction. “Go over there and talk to them. They won’t bite,” she teased.

John Rolfe glanced back over toward the group of warriors. “You sure about that?”

Pocahontas laughed and gave him another nudge. “Of course, I am.”

The Englishman groaned in slight displeasure and pushed himself up to his feet, dusted himself off, and started over in the direction of the many male eyes that were upon him. When he arrived, they had cleared a spot for him to sit. But he just stood there at first, rubbing his arm and looking awkward. “Is… um, is there something I can do for you all?” John Rolfe inquired.

Naganwaya gestured to the many plates of food set out for them. “Sit and eat with us. We want to hear your side of the story,” the lead warrior told him, beckoning him to take a seat.

“My side of what story?” John Rolfe inquired.

Naganwaya chuckled. “The story of your travels, of course. Come on.” When Rolfe continued to hesitate, Naganwaya drew his brows together in irritation. “What? You don’t like how our people prepare food?” he asked, looking almost insulted. “It is your own people’s food!”

John Rolfe frowned. “What? No, I’m sure it’s delicious the way you prepare it. I just… Well, okay, I suppose I can talk to you for a bit if you want. What part of our travels did you want to hear?” he inquired, lowering himself to the sitting mat that had been cleared for him.

“Introductions first,” Naganwaya decreed. “My name is Naganwaya.” He pointed to a warrior by his side with turkey feathers tied into his scalp-lock. “This is Achachak, a dear friend of mine.”

Achachak clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Naganwaya is our greatest warrior,” he chimed.

Naganwaya grinned. “That is what Chief Powhatan says,” he affirmed. “Anyway,” he continued, gesturing to two identical twin brothers. The only way they could be told apart was that one had blue feathers in his hair and the other had red ones. “These great braves are Chaska and Hassun. As you can see, they are identical twins. Make no mistake, they are very different.”

John Rolfe laughed, extending a hand toward the brothers. “I have a twin as well. His name is Eustace,” he said. The brothers just stared at the hand, not knowing what it was for. Rolfe rolled his eyes lightly in amusement. “It’s just a handshake,” he explained, waving it off and pulling the hand back. “Never mind. Silly English custom. It’s nice to meet you, Chaska and Hassun.”

“Chaska doesn’t speak English too good,” Achachak indicated. “And neither does Hassun.”

John Rolfe raised his brows. “Oh? Well, I am trying to learn your language, so I’ll be flexible,” he replied, turning his attention back to the twins. “Wingapo, Chaska. Wingapo, Hassun.”

The brothers smirked at him. Chaska said something in Powhatan that John Rolfe could not catch. At Rolfe’s look of confusion, Naganwaya translated, “He says he prefers to skip the introductions and get straight to the story. But, to be fair to the others, this is Hoko, Sugantips, and Samoset. They all really want to hear the story too.” He gestured to each warrior in turn.

“Well, okay, what part of the story do you want to hear? I don’t think we have enough time this evening for me to regale you all with the full story from beginning to end,” John Rolfe decided as Sugantips handed him a plate. “Oh, thank you,” he uttered, taking it. He gathered some items from the different dishes onto his plate and started to eat. The food was delicious.

Naganwaya had a very curious look on his face. “You are great warrior and hunter, are you not? Tell us about your battle with the evil ones on the giant canoe first and then we want to hear how you killed the moose and the bear,” Naganwaya decreed. Hearing this, John Rolfe almost choked on a dumpling. The English gentleman started coughing harshly, which immediately alarmed the others. Naganwaya pounded his back. “Do not die before you have chance to tell us the story!”

Once the Englishman had cleared his airway, he gasped. “I’m not a warrior  _ or _ a hunter! Who told you all that?” he blurted, putting down his plate. “I’m a diplomat by trade, a peacekeeper.”

Naganwaya and the others appeared confused. Achachak spoke next, “But did you not defeat the evil ones who threatened harm to the chief’s daughter? She tells us that you did.”

“Well, um, y-yes, I did do that. But that’s the first time I’d ever done something like that and…”

“If that does not make you a warrior, then I do not know what a warrior is. Pocahontas herself informed us that you fought magnificently against your foes. She saw the whole thing, didn’t she?” Naganwaya interrupted, knitting his brows. “Are you calling the chief’s daughter a liar?”

John Rolfe appeared alarmed. “What? N-no! I’m sure Pocahontas would not lie. It must’ve just been a misunderstanding. Pocahontas is a very honest woman,” he readily admitted.

Hearing that, Naganwaya seemed to relax. “Then tell us your side of the story.”

“Okay, fine!” John Rolfe conceded. “It all happened late at night this past autumn when we were still on the ship. I had gone to bed early. I fell asleep, but I started having a strange dream.”

“Did the dream warn you of the danger to the chief’s daughter?” Achachak asked.

The others hushed him for interrupting. “Quiet, Achachak!” Naganwaya chided.

John Rolfe raised a brow. “Shouldn’t someone be translating all this for Chaska and Hassun?”

“I will tell them story afterward,” Naganwaya replied.

Rolfe nodded. “Okay. Yes, the dream warned me that Pocahontas was in danger. I woke up quite abruptly and in a panic and ran toward the upper deck. When I got there, Pocahontas’s disguise had been torn away by a fishnet hook and several men were closing in on her. I was so angry and terrified, I grabbed a sword and a dagger. After that, it’s all the blur, to be honest. I do remember throwing Pocahontas into the water and telling her to swim to shore and then I remember being on the shore in a really dense forest. Oh! I also remember cutting a man’s hand off. It was the same pirate who came after us later on. I’m not sure how much Pocahontas told you about that.”

“Pocahontas said the man bore a knife possessed of an evil spirit,” Hoko revealed.

John Rolfe nodded. “Yes, that’s true. He almost killed me with it later on, but we just barely got away with our lives. In my mind, it really all adds up to divine providence. We were lucky.”

The warriors seemed a little confused. “Pocahontas said you cleaved a man’s head clean off the shoulders,” Naganwaya disclosed with a cutthroat gesture. “Is that all true as well? That is one of my favorite battle moves,” he declared. “I cut three men’s heads with my battle ax once.”

John Rolfe’s stomach lurched. “Uh, yes, I do vaguely recall that event as well,” he reluctantly replied.  _ Ugh, I don’t feel so well, _ he thought in the back of his mind. The food they were eating was starting to look less and less appealing to him. “I-I mean, it all happened so fast.”

Naganwaya nodded. “That is how most battles are.”

“Perhaps, but it is not something that I’m used to,” John Rolfe admitted.

Hassun said something in Powhatan. Naganwaya glanced at him and then back to John Rolfe. “He wants to know how you killed the bear. It’s something Hassun has always wanted to do.”

John Rolfe raised a brow. “Oh! That’s where you’ve misunderstood, I think. I didn’t kill a bear or a moose. It was Pocahontas who did those things. I know she killed the moose with an arrow, but I haven’t a clue how she killed the bear. I had meant to ask her. Should we call her over?”

All of the warriors had blank looks on their faces as they stared at him. John Rolfe stared back at them, not knowing what to make of their facial expressions. Suddenly, they all exchanged glances and then burst into raucous laughter. Those who understood English translated his words for those who did not and the latter added to the noise the English-speakers were making. “White man is funny!” cried Chaska in a thick accept, laughing his head off as he rolled onto his back.

Naganwaya clapped Rolfe on the back. “That is the best joke I’ve ever heard from a pale face.”

John Rolfe frowned. “Joke? But I’m not joking!”

“What you say is impossible, so it must be a joke,” Achachak replied, chortling.

Naganwaya rolled onto his back too and kept laughing, but John Rolfe drew his brows together. “I’m telling you all, it’s not a joke!” the English gentleman insisted, starting to get irritated.

“Yeah, sure. A mere woman took down great beasts all by herself,” Hoko chimed, sniggering.

John Rolfe was starting to get sick of hearing the men mock their chief’s daughter in such a rude manner. He scowled at them, stood up, and stomped back over to Pocahontas. When he got there, Pocahontas glanced up with a startled look on her face. He peered down at her with a cross look on his, planting his hands firmly on his hips. “Pocahontas, you must tell those clowns the truth.”

Sooleawa glanced up at him too, completely perplexed. Pocahontas raised a brow at the irritated English diplomat. “What are you talking about John?” the Powhatan princess inquired, putting her dinner plate down on the sitting mat before her. She dusted herself off as she rose to her feet.

As soon as she stood up, John Rolfe took her gently by the wrist and led her back over to the warriors. “They seem to have misunderstood your storytelling and think that I’m the one who killed the bear and the moose. Now, they think I’m some kind of great hunter, which you and I both know that I am not. I refuse to take credit for someone else’s deeds. Tell them the truth.”

“But, John,” Pocahontas protested, “I did tell the truth from the beginning. I didn’t think it was important who did what when I was relating the story to the village. I said  _ we _ caught a moose and a bear. Our journey was a team effort to survive. I didn’t think it was important who caught what. If they think you killed the moose and the bear, then they are making assumptions.”

“Ha!” John Rolfe declared to the men’s faces. “You heard it yourselves. I did not catch the moose or the bear. You all made assumptions. I am not much of a hunter at all. I mean, I’ve caught maybe a turtle here and there, but I’ve very little experience with hunting overall.”

The seated clique of young warriors stared up at the two of them, completely stumped. The Englishman grinned, feeling vindicated. Losing interest in the other men, he turned his attention back to Pocahontas, stretching his back and yawning. “Pocahontas, I think I should head back to Jamestown now. It’ll take a while to get there on foot anyway and I’m getting tired.”

“I’ll let you borrow Opileskiwan,” Pocahontas told him. “Come.”

As Pocahontas led John Rolfe up the hill to the stable, he said, “Pocahontas, Jamestown is going to be hosting a big party to celebrate our winter survival in four days from now. I’m going to be the organizer again and I want to invite all of your people. Will you extend the invitation to your father for me?” he inquired, yawning again. “I’d tell him myself, but I’m rather exhausted.”

“Yes, of course,” Pocahontas replied, whistling for Opileskiwan. The stallion rose up from the hay and greeted them over the wall of the stable. “And thank you. I can’t wait for the party!”

Pocahontas and John Rolfe helped each other prepare the horse and then John Rolfe was off.

…

**MARCH 25, 1614**

The ice in the rivers started to melt and break up on the morning of March 25. To make the Pamunkey River crossable without the sturdy ice, the warriors used stones and pickaxes to break up the ice nearest the shores. Thereafter, a canoe could be used to get from one side to the other. Several canoes that had been in storage for the long winter were brought out and placed on the riverbank for the people to use. Hours later, the spring fish run started. There were so many fish trying to get upriver to spawn, a man could not enter the water without stepping on one. In the evening, some heavy rains started, which only functioned to further melt and break up the ice. Chief Powhatan had to forbid anyone from attempting to cross the ice on foot afterward.

…

**MARCH 26, 1614**

The next morning dawned clear and bright. It was surprisingly warm, so much so that the people were able to remove most of their outer clothes as soon as the sun shone over the trees. In the river, Pocahontas and Nakoma were sliding through icy water in a sleek canoe. They used their paddles like battering rams to break up more of the ice. Fish of all sizes were literally jumping into the boat and the two girls giggled in glee as they threw the smaller ones back into the water. Pocahontas heard her father calling. When she glanced to the shore, he was standing there and waving for her to come back to their home. Pocahontas frowned, not wanting to give up the fun she was having. “I had better go see what my father wants,” the Powhatan princess said.

“Hurry back if you can!” Nakoma replied as she helped paddle them to shore. Chief Powhatan had already returned to the family longhouse by the time they reached the riverbank.

Pocahontas stepped out of the canoe and waved goodbye to Nakoma. “I will,” she returned, shoving the canoe with Nakoma back into the water. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She started up the muddy and slippery riverbank in her winter boots, a subtle smile on her face when she reached the family longhouse. The smile vanished when she observed that no one was there other than herself and her father. She started to worry she might be in some kind of trouble. “Father, is everything alright?” Pocahontas inquired, noting the serious look on her father’s face.

Chief Powhatan then flashed the young woman a light smile to put her at ease. “Nothing is wrong, Daughter. But I do have a very important thing to discuss with you. Please, come over here,” he replied, beckoning her over to his throne where he stood with his walking stick.

Pocahontas approached, feeling relieved. When she reached him, he smiled wider and brought a hand up to admire the shell pendant on her turquoise necklace, turning it this way and that with his hand. “I did not bring this topic up before because I knew you were grieving over John Smith’s death and I did not want to push you. But now that we know he lives, I need to know something. Pocahontas, if John Smith returns and he asks you to marry him, will you? If this is something you need time to think about, let me know now and I’ll give you more time.”

Pocahontas’s jaw dropped, caught completely off-guard by the topic that her father had just mentioned. “I-I… Well,” she began, unsure what to say. She lowered her head sadly. “No, Father. I still love John Smith, but I’m not in love with him anymore. If he had written to me while he was away, perhaps my feelings for him would never have faded. But they have. If he wants to marry me now, it’s too little, too late. I can’t marry someone who disappears for years at a time. I hope you understand that. I’m sorry if this news is disappointing,” she said apologetically.

Chief Powhatan brought his hand up from his daughter’s pendant and lifted her head. She was surprised to find that he was still smiling. “On the contrary, I am glad to know you know what you want. I’m not disappointed at all. But tell me, Daughter. I know how much you love little children. You’ve always been so good with them. Because of that, I have always assumed you wanted to be a mother someday. Is that assumption correct? Do you ever want to marry at all?”

Pocahontas smiled. “Yes, Father. I do.”

“That’s a relief to hear!” Powhatan lauded. “Well, if you’re sure that you don’t want to marry John Smith, but you do want to marry someone, then it is my duty to inform you that a different man has come forward with a marriage proposal for you,” he confidently disclosed.

Pocahontas gasped. She felt her heart speed up. Had John Rolfe done this to surprise her? She could barely contain her excitement, she was so happy. “I’ll do it! I’ll marry him!” she cried, throwing herself into her father’s arms. Pocahontas startled the chief with her fervor, causing him to jolt, but he gradually closed his arms around her. The Powhatan princess could scarcely stop the tears from flowing down her face, but she forced back her elation to finish the conversation. She cleared her throat and wiped the tears away. “W-with your permission, I mean!”

Chief Powhatan was agape for an extended moment. When he finally found his voice again, he said, “Of course, you have my permission. I’d love for you to marry such a great warrior.”

Pocahontas bit her lip and rubbed her arm. “Thanks, Father, but I don’t think he really considers himself a warrior. I know what he did was amazing, but he prefers to think of himself as a keeper of the peace, you know? Like me. I think this will be a great opportunity for our tribe.”

Chief Powhatan raised a brow, totally puzzled. “Doesn’t consider himself a warrior? Of course, he does. Naganwaya is our greatest warrior. He happily accepted that honor from me.”

Pocahontas stared at her father, failing to process what he had just said at first. “Nagan…” she uttered. “Nagan… Naganwaya. Naganwaya? Naganwaya! Wait, you mean to tell me Naganwaya is the one who asked for my hand in marriage? Oh, spirits!” She placed a hand to her forehead, feeling slightly faint, and backed up against one of the long support beams of their home.

Chief Powhatan raised a brow at his daughter’s bizarre behavior. There was an extended moment of silence as the chief tried to process what was happening. When realization finally hit him, he drew his brows together into a serious look and eyed Pocahontas. “Of course, I am talking about the warrior Naganwaya. Who did you think I was talking about?” he firmly demanded.

Pocahontas started to sweat. She was busted now and she knew it. “W-well, I…”

“Daughter!” Chief Powhatan charged. “Have you been keeping secrets from me?” Pocahontas gulped, unable to think of a quick response. “Pocahontas, I am not an idiot. You just happily consented to be a man’s wife and then when I tell you who the man is, you act surprised. It is clear as the water of the River of Youth to me that you were thinking someone else had asked!”

A bead of sweat formed on Pocahontas’s forehead and she started wringing her hands. Then she sighed and lowered her head again.  _ “Yes, Father, there is someone else,” _ she admitted in a low voice. Then her eyes shot up to meet his. “We were going to tell you very soon, I swear!”

“Who is he?” Powhatan demanded.

Pocahontas simpered at her father and then put up a finger. “Let me get back to you on that. I’ll be right back, Father!” she exclaimed, bolting past him and out the door of the longhouse.

Chief Powhatan gasped as she evaded him and abruptly left. “Pocahontas, get back here!”

“I will soon! I’ll be right back, I swear!” she called back. The young woman bolted down the riverbank, spotting Nakoma unloading her fish catch onto the shore. Pocahontas overturned the canoe, dumping all the fish onto the ground, and shoved the canoe into the water. “Hurry, Nakoma, get in, get in, get in!” blared the Powhatan princess, pushing her friend into the boat.

“Pocahontas!” Nakoma cried in alarm. “What’s the hurry?”

“We have to go to Jamestown right now!” Pocahontas exclaimed, jumping in the canoe behind her friend. She took her oar and started paddling like crazy. “Paddle as fast as you can!”

…

The settlers at Jamestown noticed the fish run as well. On the same bright morning of March 26, several men were sent out with nets to get fish for the party that afternoon. They came back with an impressive catch just before church started. Church attendance was mandatory in Jamestown, so people did not usually miss lest they end up with a fine from the town hall. On this particular day, the message from Reverend Whitaker was expected to be an important one. It concerned the necessity of thanking God after he had answered everyone’s prayers for relief from starvation.

The supplies brought by the  _ Queen Anne _ , in particular, were unique in that there was living stock aboard. The first bovines had just arrived in Jamestown and a fallow field outside the fortress walls had been fenced in for them. There were three healthy milk cows and one big bull. Thanks to the animals’ presence, butter would be available for the first time in the settlement.

The only individuals excused from church that day were the women who were cooking up all the dishes for the feast that afternoon. There were going to be poached herring and other fishes, ham, tarts, mince pies, sausages, pudding, bread and butter, cheeses, beef stew, roast chicken, turkey, duck, venison, and other meats. The cooks prepared lots of food for the arrival of their honored guests, the Powhatans, as well as the hundreds of hungry settlers they expected to show up.

John Rolfe and the other settlers were waiting outside for the church building to be opened to the public when, all of a sudden, Pocahontas and Nakoma showed up pushing their way through the crowd. “John Rolfe! John Rolfe, are you here?!” Pocahontas cried, searching for him.

At the front of the throng, John Rolfe heard Pocahontas’s voice and glanced back, trying to spot her amongst the crowd. “Pocahontas, is that you? I’m over here, near the doors!” he called.

Pocahontas reached him just as the doors to the church swung open and the church bells started to ring. “John!” Pocahontas cried, grabbing his arm when she got to him. “You need to come to my village right now, it’s an emergency! Please, please, please!” the young woman exclaimed.

He frowned as Nakoma caught up to Pocahontas. “Why, what’s wrong? Is someone hurt?”

Pocahontas bit her lower lip and glanced back. The crowd was standing still staring at the three of them instead of entering the church building as was expected. “Um, well…” she uttered. She leaned over and whispered in his ear,  _ “A warrior has asked for my hand in marriage!” _

The diplomat gasped audibly as he drew back. “What?!” he bellowed. The crowd was shocked.

“I didn’t say yes!” Pocahontas exclaimed defensively.

John Rolfe puffed out his chest, turned on a heel, and marched through the crowd to the fortress gate. “Lord Rolfe, where are you going?” cried the constable. “We have to go to church!”

John Rolfe hiked up his sleeves. “Unfortunately, constable, I’ve got a more pressing matter. I’m afraid I’ll have to accept the fine. Don’t wait up for me,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.

The British gentleman strutted his way through the open gates with Pocahontas and Nakoma trailing after him. “You’re going to Werowocomoco without a horse?” Pocahontas inquired.

“I wouldn’t want to make a horse go into the cold water just to get there. I’ll walk. Why don’t you go ahead of me and make sure your father is prepared for my arrival,” Rolfe told her.

Pocahontas nodded. “Okay, I will!”

…

Pocahontas and Nakoma returned to Werowocomoco by canoe. As predicted, John Rolfe had not yet made it there. “Are you excited, Pocahontas? He seemed so flustered. Hopefully, he’ll be able to keep his cool when he actually meets with your father,” Nakoma remarked, slightly worried.

“Oh, I’m sure he will. He’s quite talented at making good impressions,” Pocahontas replied as they pulled up to the shore. “I’m going to go prepare my father for his arrival.”

Nakoma smiled as she hopped out of the canoe. “If I can help in any way, let me know!”

“Yes! When he gets here, give him a ride across the river!” Pocahontas requested.

“Sure thing!” Nakoma said. “I—”

“Pocahontas!” cried a familiar male voice, interrupting the conversation. Naganwaya came running over with an equally flustered look on his face. “Who is he? Please, Pocahontas, let me prove myself to you! I’ll fight him. You’ll see, I am the stronger man! I can protect you better than anyone else! I don’t care who he is, Pocahontas! I swear I’ll beat him at any contest you can dream up. Archery, hand-to-hand, combat sticks, you name it!” the man pleaded.

“Naganwaya, I…” Pocahontas began, completely caught off-guard.

As the two were in a heated talk, Nakoma glanced across the river and saw John Rolfe emerge from the woods on the other side. Her eyes widened. Nakoma knew one thing for sure. Men could be possessive. In fact, they could be very possessive. The last time she had heard of men fighting over a woman, one had ended up dead. The last thing she wanted to see was a repeat of the past, regardless of who the casualty might or might not be. She grabbed Naganwaya and turned him away from the river. “Ah, ahem. Pocahontas, Naganwaya, I think you two should go discuss this matter in private. At least hear what he has to say, hm?” Nakoma proposed, meeting eyes with Pocahontas. She tilted her head at an angle where Naganwaya could not see her eyes and flashed her friend a glance across the river, smiling casually. “He is a great warrior, after all.”

Pocahontas took the hint. She did not even have to glance across the river to intuit what Nakoma was implying. The childhood friends simply knew each other too well. “Oh, oh, oh, yes! Yes, of course! Sorry, Naganwaya. I would love to hear what you have to say. Come, let’s go discuss this matter in a private place, shall we? I say all interested parties deserve to have their voices heard.”

A ray of hope shined in Naganwaya’s eyes. “Really? You’ll hear me out?”

Pocahontas nodded. “Of course, I can be reasonable,” she replied, tugging him along. She peered back toward Nakoma. “We’ll be in the communal longhouse,” she told her friend, who nodded her understanding. The young princess beckoned the warrior away from the riverbank and up the hill. She walked them both to the far side of the village, away from her father’s house, and led him inside the empty communal longhouse. “Alright,” she said, turning to him. “So, um, I’m not sure how to proceed here. I-I guess you should just tell me why you want to marry me?”

Naganwaya raised a brow and laughed. “What do you mean?”

Pocahontas returned a blank look. “Uh. I mean, what do you like about me that makes you want me to be your wife? I guess I’m just surprised. I didn’t know you felt this way,” she admitted.

Naganwaya frowned. “Does it really surprise you?”

Pocahontas nodded. “Yes. To be honest, I thought you were just being friendly before. I figured you liked to talk to me because you were sociable and you liked getting to know people. Since I got home, I’ve noticed that you have really come out of your shell,” she observed.

Naganwaya blinked. “No, it wasn’t just because I’m sociable. I know I can be friendly, but I do not think that I’m all that much friendlier than most of the other people in our village. I talked to you because I love you. I’m really surprised you didn’t pick up on that,” he said, pausing. “So?”

Pocahontas stiffened when he said the L-word. “S-so what?”

Naganwaya frowned. “So what do you say to what I said on the riverbank? Will you let me prove myself to you in battle against this man? A woman like you belongs with a man who can protect her against all enemies. You deserve the strongest and mightiest warrior that the Powhatan nation has to offer and all the prestige that would flow from such a marriage!” he proclaimed.

Pocahontas frowned too, feeling terrible on the inside. She  _ was _ going to have to break his heart. There was no doubt about it now. Fortunately, there was no rule saying that she could not let him down as gently as possible. She sighed deeply, absolutely dreading telling him what she had to tell him. “Naganwaya, I know perfectly well what you’re capable of. You don’t have to prove anything to me,” the Powhatan princess returned. “Everyone knows you’re an amazing warrior.”

Naganwaya’s visage lightened. “So you’ll consider my proposal?”

Pocahontas shook her head. “No, I can’t. And it’s not because there’s anything wrong with you. In some other time and place, I might very well have accepted. But the thing is, I’m already in love with someone else. Someone who I know very well and who also knows me very well. You and I hardly know each other. We never talked much before I returned from the land across the sea where the settlers came from. I know it’s because you were more reserved then—but still.”

Naganwaya knitted his brows. “Who is this man? I wanted to take the time to get to know you at the start of the winter, but you decided to spend it in Jamestown. What else could I have done? I could not force you to come back to Werowocomoco,” the young warrior insisted.

“This isn’t about what you did or didn’t do. You haven’t done anything wrong, Naganwaya.”

“Who is he?” Naganwaya fervently repeated.

Pocahontas pursed her lips, hesitating. Not knowing what Naganwaya was going to do with the information, she was not sure that she wanted to reveal it just yet. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

…

John Rolfe met Nakoma on the far side of the river, tipping his hat to her affably. “Hello again, madam. I say… I was in such a rush earlier that I do believe I failed to ask you your name,” he remarked, bowing to her. “I hope you’ll forgive my lack of manners. I’m John Rolfe.”

“I’m Nakoma,” replied the pregnant woman, moving up to the front of the canoe. She motioned for John Rolfe to get in the back. “Come, I’ll take you across the river,” she offered.

The Englishman smiled. “That’s very kind of you,” he said, getting in. He took the paddle that Nakoma handed to him. “Nakoma, eh? Pocahontas has told me all about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. So I take it that you also know who I am,” he returned, pushing them off the riverbank. “Is Pocahontas with her father right now? I just want to know what to expect.”

“No, she isn’t. But the chief is alone in his longhouse and I’m pretty sure he’s waiting for the arrival of the mystery man vying for my best friend’s hand,” Nakoma replied, eyeing him over her shoulder. “In case you are wondering, Pocahontas just recently told me all about it.”

John Rolfe hesitated. “Is, um, is this whole thing alright with you, then? I mean, I know this is the first time I’ve spoken to you, so I understand if you feel skeptical about our union.”

Nakoma chortled as she paddled along. They had almost reached the edge of the village. “Yes, it’s fine with me. I’ve known Pocahontas long enough to know that she knows what she wants.” As they reached the bank, they used their oars to push the canoe as far up on the land as possible. As she climbed out of the canoe, she looked back and frowned. “But there is one little thing I am concerned about—if you don’t mind me saying,” she added as she helped him out of the canoe.

“Yes, of course. What is it?”

Nakoma bit her lip. “Are… are you two going to live in Jamestown? I’m afraid I might not see Pocahontas that much after you move in together. I was really hoping she would live close by.”

John Rolfe chuckled as he climbed out of the canoe with Nakoma’s assistance. “Honestly, we haven’t discussed that yet. So you shouldn’t worry over the matter. Pocahontas is probably going to be the one to decide our situation,” he bashfully admitted, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “I did follow her back here, after all. I’ll follow her wherever she wants to go. I do realize that is kind of unusual, but Pocahontas and I aren’t exactly a traditional couple anyway.”

Nakoma smiled. “Yes, I can see that,” she returned, taking him by the wrist. She started to lead him toward the chief’s family longhouse. “Now, listen. I’ll go in first and announce your arrival. Then I’ll gesture for you to enter. Does that sound like a good plan to you?” she asked.

The Englishman nodded, taking a deep breath. He had to prepare himself for a possible negative reaction. The mystery warrior’s proposal had thrown an unexpected wrench into his original plan to pull the chief aside and ask him for Pocahontas’s hand at the party later that evening. He had wanted to surprise Pocahontas, which he hoped would make her happy. Now, the poor woman was probably very worried about what would happen, but John Rolfe was determined to make everything alright for her. He would present his proposal with confidence, answer any questions that were asked, and tell Chief Powhatan that he could take all the time he wanted to consider. As far as Rolfe was concerned, there was no need for anyone to rush such an important decision.

Soon enough, they had reached the entrance to Chief Powhatan’s neck of the family longhouse. Just as they had discussed, Nakoma went inside first. He heard her speaking to the chief in their native tongue. Shortly after, the reed mat door was rolled up for him to enter, which he did.


	10. Heartbreakers

The moment Chief Powhatan saw John Rolfe enter his longhouse, he was taken aback by the white man’s presence. The questioning word  _ “ _ You?” slipped from the chief’s lips.

“Yes, sir,” John Rolfe replied, keeping an open and honest expression on his face. He adjusted the position of the hat on his head to its proper place. Now that he and Pocahontas were ready to come clean about the true nature of their relationship, he was determined to keep things formal as the situation demanded. He was in his Sunday best, after all, and a marriage proposal always demanded proper dress by English custom. “I do hope you’ll forgive us for not coming forward sooner, but we had many worries about such things as starvation and possible warfare between our peoples. We didn’t want to burden you with having to make such an important decision about Pocahontas’s future while such things weighed heavily on your mind,” he explained.

Chief Powhatan was speechless at first as he processed everything. He brought a hand up to rub his jawline. “I see,” he slowly answered. “Well, this is certainly unexpected, Ulkekahone.”

“I imagine it is,” John Rolfe affirmed, taking a deep breath. “Well, now that I’m here, I suppose I ought to do this properly,” he spoke, straightening himself up. He approached Chief Powhatan, removed his hat, and brought it to his chest. “Great Powhatan, I would like your permission to wed your daughter. I love her very much and I would do anything to keep her safe and happy. As you know, I’ve made sacrifices for her in the past and will happily continue to do so in the future as necessity dictates. However, I do realize that a marriage such as this would break tradition in more ways than one. I am prepared to give you as much time as you need to consider, sir.”

“I appreciate that,” Powhatan replied. He sighed and ran a hand through the hair on the left side of his head. “I have questions before you depart. Without answers, I’ll have no way of knowing what I might be getting my tribe into with such an odd union. Where is Pocahontas?” he asked, looking around. “She ran off when I was trying to question her, probably to go get you.”

John Rolfe’s eyes popped open. “Pocahontas? I’m not sure. She was so frantic when she came to find me. I last saw her in Jamestown with her friend Nakoma and Nakoma is here, so Pocahontas must be around here somewhere as well now,” he replied, turning toward the door. He went over and poked his head out past the reed mat barrier. “Nakoma! Oh, there you are,” he said.

The pregnant woman in question came back inside. “Is everything alright?” she inquired.

“I think so. But Chief Powhatan wants Pocahontas to come here. He has questions for us. Do you happen to know where she ran off to?” John Rolfe asked. “I haven’t seen her since I got—”

“John!” shouted the voice of Pocahontas as she raced up the hill.

“There she is!” Nakoma triumphantly proclaimed.

John Rolfe glanced outside and spotted the Powhatan princess. “Pocahontas, come here,” he called, chuckling. “Your father wants to ask us questions. Where did you run off to this time?”

“Unimportant,” Pocahontas returned as she reached him. He held the door reed mats aside for her to enter, which she did. “Father!” she cried, taking hold of John Rolfe’s free arm. “I’m sorry I ran off earlier, but I had to go get him. Please, please, please, say yes! I’ll do anything!”

_ “Pocahontas!” _ Chief Powhatan and John Rolfe both said in a scolding voice.

The Englishman let go of the reed mats, allowing them to fall back in place, and patted her arm. “Give the man some breathing room. This is a lot for him to take in, I’m sure,” Rolfe indicated.

Chief Powhatan rubbed his face with an open palm. “That it is,” he confirmed. “Please, I need to know a few things first. If I was to say yes, where would you two plan to live?”

John Rolfe’s face flushed a bit. “Well, that’s a good question. To be honest, we haven’t dis—”

“Here!” Pocahontas declared.

The Englishman’s eyes popped open. He peered at Pocahontas. “Here? You mean… i-in this here village?” John Rolfe asked, completely surprised at the revelation. “In Werowocomoco?”

Pocahontas nodded fervently. “Honestly,” Powhatan expressed, “this is where I’d prefer you live if you’re going to be married to my daughter. My first concern when you came in today was that you were going to whisk her off to Jamestown or to somewhere even farther away like London.”

“I have no plans to return to London,” John Rolfe indicated. “Not if I marry Pocahontas.”

“That is a relief. I would much prefer Pocahontas not leave again,” Powhatan replied. “So, if you stay here, we will need to extend the family longhouse. It’s pretty much full right now.”

Pocahontas frowned. “Father, I’m pretty sure John would prefer a separate dwelling for us.”

“Well, then he’ll have to build you a house by himself—as is our custom.”

John Rolfe appeared alarmed. “But I don’t know how!”

“Is what my daughter says true? Do you prefer a separate dwelling to the family longhouse?” Powhatan inquired. “A longhouse is built by a group, but a yehakin is built by the groom.”

John Rolfe rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, I would prefer a private dwelling if possible.”

“Then someone will have to show you how to build a yehakin, either myself or someone else,” Chief Powhatan informed him. “The best time to build yehakins is later in the spring, so you would have to start soon. Unless you intend to put your marriage off until next year.”

The diplomat frowned. “I doubt Pocahontas is going to want to put it off that long.”

“Can I help him build the house, Father? I think it would be fun for us to do it together. I mean, I know it’s traditionally done by the groom alone, but we’re already breaking tradition as is,” the Powhatan princess pointed out. “I’ve observed it being done more than enough.”

Powhatan rubbed his chin. “It is not against tribal law for you to help, but if you do there is a good chance Ulkekahone will end up being mocked by the younger warriors.”

John Rolfe’s frown deepened. “That sounds awfully immature of them.”

Chief Powhatan shrugged. “Some of our people really hold fast to tradition and they don’t like seeing anyone break away from it. I am more open-minded myself, but I cannot control the hearts and minds of others any more than you can,” he expressed. “Now, I have a few other major concerns. I know you were willing to oppose your chief to help my daughter, so this really should not bother me, but I need to know where your loyalties lie as of right now. If worse comes to worst, or a war breaks out that you are unable to stop, which side will you take?”

“Before I met your daughter, my loyalties lay equally with my God and my king. However, now that I have become aware that King James is capable of being influenced by the voice of evil, my loyalties lie first with God and Pocahontas and second with my king,” John Rolfe replied without hesitation. “However, I must beg you not to repeat what I said to anyone in Jamestown. Though I do not intend it as such, it could be considered treasonous by some. But it is the truth.”

Chief Powhatan nodded. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So when you say your first loyalty lies with God, are you referring to the one we call the Great Spirit? Forgive my ignorance, but I haven’t asked the settlers much about their ‘God’ because they always reply in a manner that is incredibly condescending toward our own people.”

“I beg you to forgive them for that. Many English folk are not raised to be very open-minded. If the one you call the Great Spirit is the Creator of the heavens and the earth, then yes. God and he are one and the same,” John Rolfe confirmed. “I do believe we’re talking about the same entity.”

Chief Powhatan nodded again. “Now, as for our other customs and traditions, I’m curious as to what degree you’re going to be willing to adapt to our ways. Certain ways of doing things are more practical here than they are in Jamestown and vice-versa,” the chief explained.

“Well, let me put it like this, Chief Powhatan. If a certain method of doing something makes more sense than other methods, I’ll gladly learn to do it even if it’s not what I’m used to,” John Rolfe returned. “I’m naturally drawn to the most practical solution to a problem.”

“I appreciate your flexibility,” Chief Powhatan said. “Some men are incredibly stubborn.”

Pocahontas giggled. “John can be stubborn,” the Powhatan princess mischievously added as she snuggled the diplomat’s bicep through his sleeve, “but most of the time he is very adaptable and receptive to new ideas. If he wasn’t, I doubt I would have ever given him a second glance.”

John Rolfe snorted teasingly. “Oh, well, thanks!” he jested. “When have I ever been stubborn?”

Pocahontas cast a glance up and to the side. “Oh, I can think of a few examples.”

“As for children,” Chief Powhatan spoke abruptly. “Do you plan to have them?”

The Englishman froze in response to the very sudden and unexpected inquiry. Then his face turned pink. “Oh, dear. Well, I-I… W-we haven’t discussed it just yet, you see. And we—”

“Yes, of course!” Pocahontas interrupted. “I’d love to have children.”

John Rolfe blinked. “Ah, well. I guess we’ll go with whatever she wants. It’s not like I’m the one who has to birth them,” Rolfe blurted, laughing nervously. The pink shade of his face turned red and he brought a hand back to rub the nape of his neck. “Eh, heh. Sorry, bad joke.”

Chief Powhatan beamed at his daughter. “Do you know how many you want?”

“Six!” Pocahontas proclaimed.

John Rolfe’s eyes turned to beads.  _ “Six?” _ he repeated in an unnaturally high-pitched voice. “Oh, my! That’s quite a lot. Are you sure you want that many, love? I mean, that’s a lot of birth-giving on your part! And giving birth is quite a painful, not to mention dangerous, thing for a lady.”

“Well, my mother gave birth seventeen times and only once did she have any major issue. But she managed to survive even that,” Pocahontas pointed out. “I’m sure it’ll be painful, but it’s what a woman’s body is built for. And I am built just like my mother. Right, Father?”

Chief Powhatan smiled. “Yes, that you are. You look so much like her.”

Pocahontas beamed with pride and squeezed John Rolfe’s arm tighter. “Don’t worry, John. It’s very unlikely that what happened to Sarah will happen to me,” she quickly told him.

The gentleman still looked hesitant. The chief raised a brow and asked, “Who is Sarah?”

John Rolfe turned his attention from Pocahontas back to Powhatan. “She was my late wife, sir. She died in childbirth years ago. It was quite an awful affair,” he said, hugging Pocahontas.

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that,” Powhatan returned. He rubbed his jaw again, thinking. “Well, those are all the questions I have for now. I may have to call you back later if others arise.”

Pocahontas felt like her heart was going to leap from her chest. “So can we get married, Father?”

“I cannot give you an answer just yet,” Powhatan quickly replied.

Pocahontas’s face fell. “But Father!” she cried. “Why not?”

John Rolfe gently ushered Pocahontas toward the door. “Love, give him some time to consider. This is a big decision. No need to rush things, I always say,” he told her in a calm voice.

“I will need to meet with the elders to discuss the possible implications that this union might have for our people. Afterward, I might have more questions for you. Then I’ll let you know of my decision,” Chief Powhatan explained. “Furthermore, we need to arrange a meeting to sign the final version of the new peace treaty. I’ll have my werowances with me in a couple weeks.”

“We can discuss this more at the party this evening, sir,” John Rolfe said.

Chief Powhatan bobbed his head. “I look forward to it.”

…

By the time John Rolfe got back to Jamestown, it was almost noon and church was about to let out. He went in to partake of the final prayers. Giving thanks to God was important to him, even though he had missed most of the service due to unforeseen circumstances. Once church got out, everyone could smell the delicious scent of the feast wafting through the air outside.

The cooks were still hard at work in the town hall’s gourmet kitchen, as well as in their own homes. Everyone who was not involved in the food preparation put up decorations inside and outside the town hall. Because there were so many people in attendance, a portion of the party would take place inside and a larger portion would be outside in the town square. Those who felt chilled could retreat inside the town hall to get some relief. There would be dancing and singing and games, as well as boisterous music. A whole band had been put together this time. Lon Wheeler, the blacksmith, would be on the hornpipe, John Hart on the fiddle, and various others would be playing other instruments as well, including the lute, fife, cornet, and drums.

Once everything was just about set up and the party was ready to begin, a guard on the walls blew his horn to notify everyone of the arrival of their guests. The Powhatans came in a long procession of canoes up the James River, men, women, and older children included. The chief was naturally at the front of the very first canoe in the line. Some men and women from the fort came out to greet them and help them carry the dishes they had prepared inside the settlement.

As Pocahontas entered the settlement, she glanced Naganwaya out of the corner of her eye as he followed Chief Powhatan to the town square. From his reaction earlier, she had gotten the sense that he might try to discover the identity of her love interest. She was still unsure what he would do with that information if he happened upon it, so she decided for safety’s sake to keep it as concealed as possible during the party. She would make it a top priority to dance with different men, braves and settlers alike, to keep the great warrior guessing. Part of her hesitation was that she really did not know Naganwaya that well. For all she knew, he might accept defeat gracefully or he might put up a fight—Great Spirit forbid he attempt an assault on John Rolfe. It seemed an unlikely possibility, but she would not put it past any warrior who she did not know well.

All of a sudden, Eleanor Scott came running up to her. “Pocahontas, my dear, forgive my prying behavior, but I just had to make sure everything was okay from earlier. You caused quite a ruckus among the settlers when you showed up suddenly,” the older woman said, taking the princess’s hand. “Please, I just need to know if your little emergency has been resolved.”

Pocahontas put on a smile. “Yes, it has. John Rolfe was able to fix it. Thank you for asking, Mrs. Scott. It’s really something quite minor, but I’m not at liberty to discuss the details.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright. I’m just glad to know that you’re okay,” Mrs. Scott replied. “I’m so glad that Lord Rolfe was able to be of some assistance to you and your people again.”

“Yes,” Pocahontas said. “He has been indispensable to all of us.”

The Quincy family arrived as well to greet Pocahontas, as did Mrs. Breckinridge and a few of the other older women in the settlement with whom she had become friends over the years. They all stood there just inside the fortress’s gates chatting up a storm until someone addressed the crowd.

“Hello, everyone! Welcome, welcome! Please, come in,” came the raised voice of John Rolfe over the crowd’s clamor. “If those of you bearing dishes could drop them off with the women in the town hall, that would be much appreciated. The feast will be served in just over an hour and a half. Oh, I see you’ve brought some of your children! How lovely. Yes, thank you for coming.”

When Pocahontas and Mrs. Scott looked up, they saw John Rolfe standing on the raised portico right outside the town hall. Women from Werowocomoco who had brought food were filing into the town hall as he beckoned them in, himself standing to the side.  _ “Oh, there he is!” _ whispered Mrs. Scott to Pocahontas.  _ “What a handsome young man. Makes me wish I was younger.” _

Pocahontas giggled as John Rolfe continued, “The band is just about ready to get started. We’re going to treat the central area of the town square as the dance floor, so there is plenty of space for everyone. As the sun goes down, it might get a bit chilly and that’s why we have the town hall open. Feel free to go in at any time. You’ll find refreshments and hors-d’oeuvres inside. Outside, there are going to be plenty of torches and lamps for light. If you dance, you probably won’t feel cold very quickly. It’s going to be mostly fast-paced this evening and freestyle. That’s right, we are starting with freestyle this time. For everyone who wants to dance, get in the middle. As for everyone else, please stand around the outside. You’re free to watch and chat and play games.”

When the music started, it was not long before Pocahontas felt someone tap on her shoulder. It was Samuel Quincy. “Hello, Pocahontas, how are you enjoying the day so far? Did you manage to get your problem from earlier resolved?” he inquired, holding a glass of wine in one hand and sipping it. “There was quite a lot of chatter about it during the church service, believe it or not. I’m ashamed to admit that English folks can be such gossips,” he said in a jesting tone.

Pocahontas chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” she replied, leaning over to whisper something in his ear.  _ “My father told me that a man had asked for my hand in marriage. I thought it was John, but it turned out to be a warrior. Father figured out that I already had a suitor and I had to get John to go ahead and make his marriage proposal. My father is going to take some time to consider, but it looks promising so far. I can’t wait to marry him! We’re going to be so happy!” _

Samuel Quincy pulled back, grinning ear to ear. “Pocahontas, that’s excellent news! You had me and the girls so worried, but now I can’t wait to tell them,” the bearded man lauded.

Pocahontas shushed him and pulled him back in.  _ “Because I don’t have Father’s consent yet, it’s not official. We won’t be announcing our engagement until we get an answer from him.” _

_ “Got it,” _ Samuel returned in a hushed tone.  _ “But may I go sneak off and tell my family at least? Hannah and Rebeccah are helping the other women in the town hall kitchen at the moment. I’m sure they’re dying to know what the hubbub this morning was all about.” _

_ “Sure, go ahead!” _ Pocahontas whispered.

Samuel Quincy nodded and ran off through the throng of people. Pocahontas was about to join the dancers by herself, but she felt someone else tap on her shoulder rather unexpectedly. When she spun around, it turned out to be her old friend Thomas Savage. The redhead gave Pocahontas a wide grin. “Hey, Pocahontas! Did the thing from this morning turn out alright? Was Lord Rolfe able to help you with whatever the problem was? You’ve had a lot of people worried,” he said.

Pocahontas nodded. “Yes, yes, John solved our problem. Thanks for asking. Would you like to dance?” she inquired, shooting a glance over her shoulder toward Naganwaya. He was looking her way. She intended to dance with several unmarried men to throw him off Rolfe’s trail.

Thomas’s eyes lightened. “With you? Sure, I’d love to. It’d be an honor.”

…

As much as John Rolfe wanted to get to the dance floor, he was surrounded with a sizable crowd of mixed Powhatan people and settlers who desperately wanted to talk to him. He entertained the crowd with jokes and stories before he caught a glance of Pocahontas on the dance floor with a young ginger man. The diplomat grinned to himself. He had been worried that Pocahontas might get bored while he was preoccupied with the others, but it seemed that she knew how to entertain herself just fine. And, fortunately, she seemed to be receiving plenty of attention of her own.

He was regaling the group with the story of how he and John Smith had broken Pocahontas out of the Tower of London and then exposed Ratcliffe’s lies to the king when Mrs. Breckinridge joined the group, slowly but surely weaving her way toward the English diplomat. John Rolfe interrupted himself when he saw her. “Ah, Mrs. Breckinridge! So nice of you to join us. I say, how are the feast preparations coming along?” the young gentleman queried.

“In timely order, my lord. Now, you don’t want to miss the opportunity to dance before the food is served, do you? There’s a long line of lovely young ladies waiting to prance around the town square with you,” Mrs. Breckinridge informed him. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint them.”

John Rolfe chuckled. “All in good time, madam. There will be dancing after the feast and well into the night on this particular occasion. There’s plenty of time for every would-be dancer to get a turn with as many partners as he or she would like,” the diplomat confidently answered.

Mrs. Breckinridge gave a small pout. “Oh, but there are a few people I’m wanting to introduce you to. An upstanding gentleman and his wife arrived on the  _ Winifred _ with their daughter and son. You might find them quite cordial. Believe me, they’ve heard all about you. Oh! There are so many who want to meet you after hearing about all you’ve done for the settlement.”

“Alright, alright! You’ve convinced me. Bring them over,” John Rolfe declared.

As Mrs. Breckinridge paraded off to retrieve the other people, John Rolfe gestured for the crowd around him to part down the middle. Before long, a well-dressed gentleman and his wife were standing before him. He bowed and she curtsied as their teenaged son walked up behind them. The man approached first and shook Rolfe’s hand. “Lord Rolfe, it is a pleasure to meet a man of your stature. My name is Lord William Worthham from Essex. Ever since we left England, my wife and I have heard you’re quite the social climber. Lord advisor to the royal court? It must’ve been God’s grace that sent you back here to rescue the colony from winter starvation.”

“You’re a hero, Lord Rolfe,” his wife added. “It’s an honor to meet your acquaintance.”

Lord Worthham put an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Delores and I would love to hear more about your travels and accomplishments. I know that you are a busy man, but could you by any chance spare an evening sometime soon for dinner? We look forward to becoming familiar.”

“Actually,” John Rolfe began, “since you’ve mentioned it, I should inform you that I’ve penned the tales of my travels with Princess Pocahontas. I intend to send a copy to King James and Queen Anne. I ought to have a copy written up for you too. I’d love to have dinner with your family, but the story is quite a long one. It would take a lot of energy to tell the whole thing.”

Lord Worthham smiled. “Then we look forward to receiving a copy. We haven’t had a house of our own built yet, but perhaps we could have dinner in the town hall sometime soon.”

“That sounds delightful,” John Rolfe replied, glancing their teenaged son standing beside them. “And who is this young man? He looks just like you, Lord Worthham,” he remarked.

The boy looked like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes, but his father looked delighted and proud. “This is our son, Jacob. He’s fifteen years old and quite an avid learner,” said the father.

“Ah! It’s delightful you’ve mentioned that because I have been mulling over the idea of founding a school for the children of the colony this spring and summer. Indeed, it looks like we will have lots of work to do in upcoming weeks,” John Rolfe replied, flashing them a smile.

Lord Worthham raised a brow. “You… want to found a school for commoners?”

“Yes,” John Rolfe replied. “Of course, it won’t be just for commoners. Any child can attend.”

Lord and Lady Worthham exchanged glances with each other. “Well, alright, Lord Rolfe. If that’s what you want to do,” Delores replied, placing a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle.

The diplomat grinned and Lord Worthham mirrored him. “Last but not least, we would like to introduce you to our daughter, Grace. She’s two years older than her brother and a debutante!” William said, beckoning his daughter forward from the crowd. She was a beautiful young lady with wavy and lustrous black hair and furtive hazel eyes. Despite her young age, Grace appeared fully developed in body and mind as the young girl was both voluptuous and confident.

In an expansive green dress, Grace Worthham came forward and did a perfect curtsy in front of John Rolfe, flashing him a bright smile. “I feel privileged to meet a noble hero face-to-face.”

“Oh, you’re too kind, young miss,” John Rolfe replied. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well.” When the girl offered him her hand, he stepped forward and happily shook it. “I hope you enjoy your time in our small settlement. There are quite a lot of adventures to be had out there.”

Grace Worthham giggled. “It sounds wonderful!”

“Perhaps you two would like to have a dance later?” William suggested. “Of course, we’re all quite hungry. But after dinner would be ideal, don’t you think, Lord Rolfe?”

John Rolfe gave his assent with a nod. “Yes, I’d be delighted.”

…

Pocahontas was parched by the time she finished dancing with one of her warrior friends. It was almost time for the feast. Meeko had run off somewhere with Percy yapping at him and she went in search of them both. As she passed by one house, she thought she heard the sound of feminine weeping. When she froze in her tracks and listened, she thought she was able to hear the sound of a comforting female voice as well as the crying. Pocahontas, out of pure curiosity, crept closer to the window of the house in question and glanced inside. An adolescent girl was face down on her bed. She was crying her eyes out as her mother sat at the bedside rubbing her back. “Love, that is  _ not _ true. She’s not prettier than you. She has more meat on her bones, but that’s something that can be fixed. You’ve gained weight over the past few days, Yvette, and you are ravishing.”

“But what about her status?” sobbed Yvette. “She’s the daughter of a gentleman. I’m just the daughter of a gunsmith. She has more money and prettier dresses than I’ll ever have!”

“Yvette, my dear, you’re acting like you know nothing about Lord Rolfe. He’s not like the other gentlemen. He does not think lowly of people of our station. The man nearly laid down his life to save ours. He’ll not be fooled by pretty dresses and false confidence,” Mrs. Spurling soothingly told her. “Now, I need to get to work on prettying up some of your old dresses and you, my dear, need to get to that feast and eat, eat, eat! This Worthham girl may have a couple advantages over you, but you’ve also got some over her. Your flaxen hair and sapphire eyes are bound to get his attention. And don’t you worry about the Worthhams inviting Lord Rolfe to dinner. We will do the same and we are excellent cooks, you and I. If we put together a delicious repast, the man is bound to take notice. The fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, after all.”

Yvette whimpered. “So Daddy has gone to invite him to dinner? Oh, Lord, I hope he says yes!”

Overhearing the discussion, Pocahontas’s eyes widened in shock. While she did not know who the Worthhams were, she could gather enough as to what the conversation was about without that knowledge. This pretty young sixteen-year-old had feelings for John Rolfe. Very intense feelings, by the looks of it. The Powhatan princess frowned sadly. It was bad enough that her relationship with Rolfe had broken one heart already. How many more would be broken when they ultimately announced their engagement? There was no telling just how many women in the settlement were secretly in love with the English diplomat. The thought saddened Pocahontas quite a bit.

She cast her gaze downward and trudged back to the town square, forgetting about Meeko and Percy for the time being. Suddenly, she heard the ringing bells which were intended to announce the feast. Both hungry and thirsty, she rushed off toward the town hall and nearly ran into John Rolfe along the way. “Oh, Pocahontas!” the diplomat cried, setting eyes on her. “There you are.”

“John!” Pocahontas blurted, surprised that he had escaped the crowd from earlier.

The Englishman flashed her a coy look and then she noticed his hands were behind his back. “I’ve got you something,” he announced, flushing slightly. Before Pocahontas knew it, she was presented with a small bundle of beautiful purple crocuses—the first flowers of spring.

She gasped. “Oh, John, they’re gorgeous! Where did you find them?”

“Just outside the settlement between patches of ice. They’re the first I’ve seen so far. I think we can expect many more in the coming weeks,” John Rolfe told her as he nudged the little bundle behind her left ear. “This is one of your spring festival traditions, is it not? Bringing a lady the very first flowers of the season. I do recall you mentioning something like that.”

Pocahontas glanced around warily, not seeing Naganwaya. It was likely that he had already gone inside to the feast. It seemed everyone was filing inside to retrieve their meals and coming back out with plates. There were chairs and tables set up outside, as well as Powhatan sitting mats and cushions. “Yes, it’s a tradition,” she confirmed, wanting desperately to kiss Rolfe. Unfortunately, she could not do that in public until after they had announced their engagement.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“I’m really thirsty,” Pocahontas replied.

John Rolfe smiled. “Then I’ll fetch us some refreshments while you’re getting your meal. You want water again, I presume?” he inquired. “You must be parched after all that dancing.”

Pocahontas nodded. They were about to part ways when suddenly a heavyset man with a bald head and blond beard walked up to John Rolfe. “Lord Rolfe, I presume? Forgive my intrusion. My name is Kellam Spurling and I’ve been looking for you. I couldn’t get to you earlier when you were surrounded by the throng. I can see you’re quite the popular fellow, my boy.”

John Rolfe rubbed his chin. “Kellam Spurling? That name rings a bell. Oh! You’re the gunsmith, aren’t you? Well, I say, Mr. Spurling, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I heard you were ill at our last celebration. It’s a relief to see that you’ve recovered,” he replied, shaking the man’s hand.

Kellam Spurling gladly accepted the handshake. “You’ve heard of me? How flattering. In fact, Lord Rolfe, I just wanted to say that you’ve been so good to the people of this settlement, my own family included. Sometime, if you’re available, we’d love to host you for dinner. My wife and daughter are excellent cooks and I think you’ll find the cuisine quite to your liking.”

John Rolfe beamed. “Why, that sounds like an excellent idea. Now, come to think of it, there is something I need to consult you about and I think dinner would be the perfect opportunity to get that done. I hear you’re excellent at what you do, a very talented man. I’d be honored to join you and your family some evening soon. How about Wednesday night after the evening service? I have not made plans yet for that time. We can get together right after church lets out.”

“That’s perfect! I’ll go tell my wife and daughter right away. Oh, they will be so excited you’re coming,” Mr. Spurling declared. “Our house is the one across the square from the town hall with the black doorframe. Church is between five and six, so how about seven o’clock sharp?”

John Rolfe tipped his hat. “I’ll be there in my Sunday best, as usual.”

The man smiled happily, bowed, and then plodded off to relate the news to his family. As the Powhatan princess watched him go, she frowned. She thought that maybe she should tell John Rolfe what their true intentions were, but part of her wondered if doing so would demonstrate that she had a lack of faith in him. Of course, she knew he was not going to go off and marry some pretty sixteen-year-old and just ditch her, so she should not worry about it anyway. But somehow the thought still bothered her. She tried her best to shake it off as she and John Rolfe headed inside the town hall to retrieve their dinners and drinks. “Would you like me to get you a plate, John? I’ll get you a sampling of as much as I can,” Pocahontas offered.

“Oh, well, that would save time,” John Rolfe replied. “Sure!”

Pocahontas watched John Rolfe walk away as she waited in line. He was still too slim from the harsh winter. She decided it would be a good idea to fill his plate up as much as possible and encourage him to eat all of it. Her father’s earlier words that he might get mocked by the young warriors had her concerned. They would probably be a lot less likely to mock him if he did not look so scrawny. It was not just about immature men though. For the sake of his health, John Rolfe needed to regain the weight he had lost. He had looked so much better right after they had escaped the pirate ship. He was still handsome, of course, but a man’s handsomeness was always enhanced by muscle and bulk, at least in Pocahontas’s opinion. It was likely that English women felt differently, as being scrawny seemed to be a sign of nobility among the English. Having bulk and muscle was a sign of menial labor, but Pocahontas did not care. If bulking up made John Rolfe less appealing to the women of the settlement, that would be a plus in her mind.

When she got to the buffet tables, she took two plates and started loading them with meats, fish, bread and butter, mince pie, apple pie, and all other manner of delicious culinary items. She doubled up John Rolfe’s portions until his plate was twice as high as hers. With her own plate in her left hand and John’s in her right, she shuffled back outside to find Rolfe as Francis Couper held the door open for her. The diplomat had graciously selected a place to sit on Powhatan mats instead of English chairs, knowing Pocahontas would be more comfortable with the former.

He had gotten them both glasses of wine and water. It was sunny outside in the late afternoon and relatively warm, so there was no need for hot spiced tea just yet. When Pocahontas came and John Rolfe caught sight of her, his eyes widened. “Whoa! You must be hungry,” he said, noticing the plate piled high with food. She gracefully lowered herself into a cross-legged position while balancing both plates and, to his surprise, placed the plate with the most food before him. “For me?!” he exclaimed. “Why? It’s so much. My stomach isn’t big enough for all of that!”

Pocahontas grinned. “You’ll have to stretch it until it gets bigger. You’re too thin, John. You need to regain the weight you lost this winter,” she told him, stuffing mince pie into her face. “Mm.”

John Rolfe frowned. “Well, you lost weight too. How come you don’t have to eat as much?”

Pocahontas swallowed the bite in her mouth. “Because I’m a woman. It won’t take as much for me to get back into shape. Plus, you lost more weight than I did and you know it.”

John Rolfe pouted. “You’re not being fair.”

“Eat,” Pocahontas ordained, pointing to his plate.

John Rolfe sighed and did as she commanded, eating as much of the food on his plate as he possibly could. By the end of it, his stomach was so full that he was in no shape to get on the dance floor. He would need at least an hour to digest his meal. Luckily, the dancing and singing would go on late into the night and it was not even dark yet. He stayed there sitting on the mat and conversing with Pocahontas, feeling a bit sleepy from all the sustenance he had ingested.

As soon as the music started again sometime later, a young lady in a green dress approached. “Lord Rolfe, I do believe you promised me a dance. What do you say?” Grace beseeched.

John Rolfe politely stood to receive her. “Give me about half an hour, Miss Worthham. I’ve eaten quite a lot and I’m afraid I’ll end up with cramps should I attend the dance floor now.”

With a coquettish look in her eye, the bold adolescent smiled and curtsied. “Very well then, Lord Rolfe. I’ll hold you to it. The feast was delicious, by the way. I am told you are the one who has organized the festivities. My mother and I organized parties every weekend when we were back in London and they were always a hit. Perhaps, for the next celebration, we can get together and throw ideas around for some possible divertissements, don’t you think? Great minds think alike.”

John Rolfe smiled. “That sounds like a splendid idea. Come to think of it, would you like to join Pocahontas and me until we’re ready to dance? I’d love to continue this conversation.”

“You…” Grace began, peering down at Pocahontas with a disapproving look. “You want me to join you… on the ground?” the girl inquired, frowning at the notion. “Oh, dear.”

“Oh, we can put down more sitting mats if you’d like,” John Rolfe replied. “That’s no problem.”

Grace Worthham curled a lip slightly. “Oh, I’m going to have to pass on that right now. I would not want to sully or crinkle my dress. I’ll come back to get you in half an hour, Lord Rolfe.”

John Rolfe shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

As the girl walked off, Pocahontas had to take another bite of food to rid herself of the bad taste in her mouth. Now she knew what Worthham girl the Spurlings had been talking about and Pocahontas did not like said girl one bit. She could not help but relate to poor Yvette, thinking the black-haired girl did seem like hard competition. Fortunately for Pocahontas, she already had John Rolfe wrapped around her finger. But still, the thought of him dancing in the girl’s arms gave Pocahontas a certain unpleasant sensation in the pit of her stomach. She could not place the emotion, but it felt like a smoldering hot spot. The Powhatan princess took a deep breath as John Rolfe sat back down by her. She dared not say anything about her negative feelings lest she reveal her insecurity to the English gentleman. “Well, she seems… pretty,” she uttered, not sure what else to say. “I like her dress. What is her given name?” Pocahontas inquired.

John Rolfe shot Pocahontas a devious look. “Not as pretty as you,” he retorted, gently brushing a hand over hers. “Her name is Grace. She seems to be the spoiled daughter of a gentleman from London. Don’t worry about them. I’m only being nice for the sake of etiquette.”

This statement gave Pocahontas some immediate relief from her negative feelings. Apparently, John Rolfe did not particularly like the Worthhams either. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Pocahontas wished she could share that information with the Spurlings, but she did not want to seem like a gossip. Plus, there would be no point in giving Yvette hope since John Rolfe was not even available to begin with. “Well… maybe she’s a bit spoiled, but I still like her dress.”

John Rolfe raised his brows. “You want one like it?”

Pocahontas shook her head. “It’s not my color, but I think it looks good on her,” she said shyly.

The Englishman casually propped his head up in his hand, a dreamy look in his eyes as he gazed at Pocahontas longingly. He quickly masked the expression when she caught him staring. Both of their faces flushed and he laughed nervously, clearing his throat. “Pocahontas, I hope you don’t think me too bold, but… when I look at you, my heart starts to beat very fast.” He sat back and ran his fingers through his hair, mostly avoiding her gaze. Yet he seemed to be fighting against the impulse as, every now and again, his eyes flicked back to hers. He poked his fingers together. “I realize I appear to be in full control of my faculties most of the time, but I-I…” He paused, considering his words. He sighed in a look of frustration. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that, well, that that is mostly a facade. It’s a facade that takes years of training to master.”

His face turned even redder as he slapped a hand to his forehead and dragged it down the length of his face. Pocahontas reached over with one hand and interweaved her fingers with his. “It’s alright, John,” she said soothingly. “I understand. Everyone at the Hunt Ball seemed to wear a mask of sorts. I realize it must have been difficult growing up in your culture.”

John Rolfe squeezed her hand as he relaxed a bit. “Yes, things were quite strict,” he confirmed, straightening up. He took her hand in both of his. “Remember how you were nervous about slipping up at the Hunt Ball?” he asked. Pocahontas nodded. “Well, you weren’t alone in that. Everyone in high society is  _ constantly _ on edge because we’re all afraid of slipping up. Slipping up is so easy to do. All the rule books on etiquette in the world can’t predict every situation one might find oneself in. Sometimes bold risky moves must be made, like the one you made during the bear baiting. It was risky, but it had to be done. You see what I’m saying?”

Again, Pocahontas nodded. “Of course. That makes perfect sense.”

“Right. So what I’m getting at is that even the most well-practiced individuals slip up, sometimes in a big way, which can cause a major embarrassment or some other serious consequence. You remember when I first came to your village with the intent of convincing your father to come to England and meet the king?” John Rolfe inquired, maintaining a focused gaze between them.

Pocahontas raised a brow. “Yes?”

“Well, when I told you that you couldn’t handle a diplomatic job, that was an example of one of my slip-ups. I broke two rules of etiquette. The first was to never make assumptions about people you don’t know and the second was to always be polite even when you disagree with someone.”

Pocahontas’s lips curled into a smirk. “You’re not still thinking about that, are you?”

John Rolfe’s eyes shot open. “What? No! I’m only using it as an example for the point I’m trying to make next,” Rolfe blurted, pausing again. He bowed his head and huffed, looking discouraged, but then looked up again to meet her eye. “I am sorry to be so long-winded, but I am trying to express a rather complicated sentiment that I haven’t been compelled to express to anyone in a long time. It’s not easy because I’m afraid I’ll slip up and offend or… or even frighten you.”

Pocahontas’s eyes widened in slight alarm. “Frighten me?”

John Rolfe started to sweat. “What? No! I mean… Obviously, I’d never want to frighten you. That’d be contrary to all my intentions. What I mean is, some women get frightened more easily than others in response to these things. It depends on how well the man in question succeeds in using tact and good discretion.” He frowned. “I’m sorry. I sound like an idiot, don’t I?

Pocahontas appeared confused. She thought she had known what he was trying to get at, but his tangents had begun to obscure his point. Her curiosity compelled her to do what it took to help him get his thought out though. “No, you don’t. Go on,” she said encouragingly. “What is it that you are afraid might frighten me? You are one of the least frightening men that I have ever met.”

John Rolfe looked surprised. “Really?” he asked. Pocahontas nodded, taking a sip of water. The Englishman appeared hesitant. “Is… i-is that a good thing?” he worriedly added.

Pocahontas almost snorted the water out of her nose as she chuckled. “Of course! Why would anyone want to be frightened by someone else?” she pointed out, laughing.

John Rolfe poked his fingers together. “Oh, right. I mean, yes. Sorry, that answer should’ve been obvious,” he replied, wanting to bang his head on a wall for asking such a silly question. He took a deep breath and started again. “Okay, so what I’m trying to say is that the… the sentiments that some men have for certain individual women can be quite intense.” He paused, trying to read her facial expression but finding it frustratingly unreadable. “Remember that forest fire which nearly killed us both?” the English gentleman seemed to ask completely out of the blue.

Pocahontas raised a brow. “Yes, how could I forget?”

He scooted forward and pulled her toward him until their faces were inches apart. “I’m trying to help you understand the intensity of the sentiments I’m talking about. Pocahontas, symbolically, that wildfire is the perfect metaphor for how intensely I feel about you,” he declared. Pocahontas gasped when he pressed her hand to his chest. His heart was beating faster than Flit’s wings.

Pocahontas yelped. “John! Are you okay?” she cried, worried he might keel over any second.

John Rolfe jerked back, releasing her arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you! Oh, sakes alive, this is exactly what I was afraid of,” he chided himself, shamefaced.

“John, I’m not frightened of you, I’m frightened  _ for _ you! Are you sick?” she countered.

The Englishman nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am very sick indeed. Lovesick.”

Pocahontas had never heard the term before. “Lovesick? What does that mean? Do… do you need me to help you lie down in your bed at the inn?” she worriedly offered.

“Don’t put ideas in my head!” John Rolfe charged. Pocahontas blinked. The Englishman rose to his feet and knelt before her, taking her hand again. The Powhatan princess flushed. “I’m saying I love you so much that sometimes it feels like there is a wildfire raging inside of me. It feels like I’m literally burning. Feverishly. That’s what lovesick means. And I can’t even show you what I mean to the fullest extent because we’re not married yet. I struggle madly to keep control. So if I ever slip up or go too far before the appropriate time, you must tell me right away!”

Pocahontas frowned. “John, I do not think there is anything wrong with you expressing your feelings, even if they are intense. What’s wrong with that?” the Powhatan princess asked.

“Because certain forms of expression are not sanctioned outside of marriage,” Rolfe shot back.

Pocahontas blinked. When the realization of his meaning dawned on her, she flushed. Then she giggled and brushed a finger over the tip of his nose enticingly. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to be patient then. I’m sure my father won’t take too long to get back to us anyway.” John Rolfe could not help but bite his lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood as his body trembled at the sound of her voice. Her eyes brightened as she looked up. “Speaking of whom.”

John Rolfe glanced back over his shoulder and panicked when he saw Powhatan and a couple of his elders approaching. Red-faced, he grabbed an extra cushion and pulled it over his lap. Then he waved to them. “Chief Powhatan, how are you and your people enjoying the festivities?” John Rolfe inquired, chuckling nervously. “Forgive me. I’d rise to greet you, but I’ve rather developed a numbing cramp in my leg. Nonetheless, I take it that you’ve had your fill of all the food.”

Chief Powhatan nodded as he reached them. “Yes, it’s been great so far. My council and I just wanted to come over and let you know that we’ll be ready to sign the peace treaty in fifteen days from now. My werowances will be visiting Werowocomoco to discuss the upcoming war with the Monacans and we’ll all be together. I thought then would also be a great opportunity for us to discuss weaponry and whatever support you are willing to lend toward the war effort.”

“Yes, that sounds like a good plan to me,” John Rolfe returned. “I’ll add it to the calendar. Fifteen days from now should be precisely the 10th of April. As far as I know, the Jamestown council is available on that day. I’ll let the governor and other councilors know about it.”

“Thank you,” Chief Powhatan said. “I should also have come to a decision by then concerning your proposal to my daughter. I just need to discuss the matter in detail with my council first.”

John Rolfe nodded. “Pocahontas and I understand. Please, take all the time you need.”

The rest of the evening passed very pleasantly. Even when the sun went down, it did not get very cold at all. Torches and lanterns were lit, allowing the partygoers to keep on partying until the hour grew late. Powhatan and English children, despite not speaking the same language, figured out how to play games together like leapfrog and a variety of other fun activities. They laughed and played all evening as adults and adolescents tore up the dance floor. In the later hours, a trio of warriors performed an impressive fire-spinning dance for the entertainment of the crowd. It was not until around midnight that people started to retire. After the feast was all consumed, the Powhatan people returned to their canoes and used moonlight to navigate their way home.


	11. The Spring Thaw

**The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book II**

Chapter 11: The Spring Thaw

**MARCH 30, 1614**

Pocahontas and John Rolfe trod through the north woods with their horses on leads. “Here we are,” the former announced, pointing out the ceramic containers scattered through the trees. “The sap has been running for days. Look! So much has collected in the pots since just yesterday.”

John Rolfe patted Snow Angel’s nose and padded over to one of the pots. A short spout made from a hollowed sumac stem was stuck in the tree trunk and a clear liquid was dripping down into the ceramic pot below. “Hm. It looks just like water,” he noted, picking up the pot. It sloshed around like water as well. “So this is how you make that sweet stuff? It’s quite clever.”

“Yes. It looks like water, but taste it. It is slightly sweet. All we have to do now is boil it down into syrup and it can store for ages,” Pocahontas explained, walking up behind him to peer into the pot. “Now that we have horses, we can carry a lot more back to the village in just one trip. It’s going to be so much more efficient this way,” the young princess determined.

Both horses were bearing a relatively light load of empty ceramic containers, three on each flank. Pocahontas took the ceramic pot from John and walked over to Opileskiwan’s side. She removed a lid from one of the large containers and poured the maple sap inside. “So all we have to do is collect the clay pots and pour the sap into the containers on our horses? That seems pretty easy,” John Rolfe remarked, observing the pots scattered through the trees in the maple patch.

Pocahontas nodded. “Next year, I’ll show you how to insert the spouts. The warriors already did most of that work some days ago. They have been collecting the sap daily ever since. Due to the cold winter, these maple trees are running like crazy. We will have so much maple syrup this year that we might even have enough left over to trade with other tribes. Usually, we consume all of it ourselves. It’s easy to make, but it does take a long time to boil it all down into syrup. Here, help me collect all the pots and pour them into Opileskiwan’s containers. I’ll work on his right side and you work on his left. We must keep him as balanced as possible,” she proposed.

“Got it,” John Rolfe replied, trudging off into the woods. He came back bearing two more pots, one under his left arm and one under his right. Then he moved over to the stallion’s left side, removed one of the lids, and started pouring the maple sap into the container. It took several pots to fill just one of the horse’s containers because they were so large. After emptying the pots, John Rolfe and Pocahontas returned them to their original locations to collect more sap for the next day. They continued to move through the trees until they had collected all the sap from the maple patch. When they were done, John Rolfe smiled at Pocahontas in delight. “Well, that was fun. I look forward to doing it again. And to tasting the sweet fruit of our labors,” he said.

They had nearly filled up all of the horses’ containers. Once they were done, they put the lids back on and tied them down to prevent any spillage from happening. “Alright, we’re ready to head back to the village,” Pocahontas announced, taking her horse’s lead. “Come, boy.”

When they reached Werowocomoco, they took the sap to the medicine man. Kekata was up on a hilltop boiling a large ceramic cauldron of maple sap over a fire. Several children sat around him as Kekata instructed them on how to make the syrup in Powhatan. “Sir,” John Rolfe spoke to get the old man’s attention, “we’ve brought you more sap. Where would you like us to put it?”

Kekata smiled. “The level in the cauldron is getting low. Fill it up and leave the rest right outside my hut, please,” he indicated, pointing just down the hill to where his yehakin stood.

Pocahontas and John Rolfe helped each other lift one of the heavy clay containers and carefully pour more sap into the boiling cauldron until it was just an inch below the rim. Then they led their horses down to the huts and left all the rest of the containers there for Kekata’s later usage. The Powhatan woman turned her attention to John Rolfe. “Alright, John. It’s almost midday and I planned an early spring picnic for us and Nakoma. You don’t mind if she comes, do you?”

“Course not,” John Rolfe replied. “I’m sure she’d like an opportunity to get to know me better.”

Pocahontas led John Rolfe to her friend’s yehakin. “Nakoma, John and I are ready to go!”

“Coming!” Nakoma called back. She appeared soon enough with a large covered picnic basket in both arms. “Alright, I’m ready to go,” Nakoma happily announced. “I have some pork dumplings and venison steaks and even stuffed roasted herring. What do you think, Pocahontas?”

“That sounds delicious,” remarked the princess.

When John Rolfe glanced over and saw the burden that the heavily-pregnant woman bore, he offered his hands for it. “That’s a lot of weight for a lady in your condition to carry. May I?”

Nakoma handed it to him. “Thank you so much,” she replied, placing a hand on her lower back. “It does get a bit achy at this stage. The midwife thinks I still have another moon to go. Luckily for me, the sickness has gone away entirely. Shall we go to the canoes, Pocahontas?”

The Powhatan princess nodded. Then she leaned over and whispered in Powhatan,  _ “We should probably take the steadiest route for John’s sake.” _ Nakoma bobbed her head in agreement.

“What was that?” John Rolfe blurted.

Pocahontas giggled. “Nothing, John. Come on,” she directed, leading them down the village path toward the riverbank. “You can sit in the middle, Nakoma. Just hold the picnic basket. You won’t have to do any of the paddling,” Pocahontas offered, skipping down to the bank.

“The forest looks beautiful when it’s transforming from winter to spring, don’t you think?” John Rolfe observed. “That waterfall over there is absolutely magnificent,” he said as he pointed. The broad cascades near the village had partially thawed, but they were still covered with dripping icicles on the topmost part. The water underneath gushed forth as if out of a geyser.

Pocahontas smiled. “Yes, we have many waterfalls here in Tsenacomoco. The land itself is a treasure beyond anything you could ever dig out of it. I think some of the settlers are starting to see that. The thing is, John, if too many people come here, the land will end up being destroyed in the process. We must monitor our resources carefully to ensure we don’t overexploit them.”

“Believe me, Pocahontas. I know that. The area where London is used to be a magnificent forest, but it was all razed to make way for more and more people. Honestly, I do not think that is the way God intended for human beings to live. The only things that seem to have kept the European populations in check at all have been the great plagues and wars that have killed so many.”

Pocahontas frowned at the bleak revelation, helping Nakoma into the canoe. She took the picnic basket from Rolfe, placing it between the pregnant woman’s knees. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to your father about. We’ll have to address the topic to ensure our long-term survival together and the maintenance of peace between both our peoples,” John Rolfe explained. “Your father is an intelligent man, as you are an intelligent woman. Maybe both of you can help us solve the problems for which we came here to begin with.”

John Rolfe’s words made Pocahontas very curious as he climbed into the back of the canoe. She handed him his paddle and raised both brows. “And what is that problem?” she asked.

The Englishman chuckled uneasily. “The main problems for us are Spain and all of Catholicism in general. You know what? This is an unpleasant topic, but we do need to address it. I think we should save this discussion for when we meet with your father at some point. Then I will be able to explain it to both of you at the same time. Do you mind if we put it off until then?”

“Well, now you’ve piqued my interest,” Pocahontas remarked.

Nakoma appeared fascinated as well. “Mine too! I’d love to know more about these problems.”

John Rolfe simpered at the both of them as he used his paddle to hold the canoe steady for the young princess to climb inside. A fish jumped over the canoe, startling him and causing him to jump. The canoe rocked from side to side, almost throwing Pocahontas into the cold water. She yelped loudly and held onto the flanks as it rocked from side to side. The gentleman used his oar to steady the canoe again as Pocahontas did the same with hers. “Sorry, Pocahontas!” John Rolfe apologetically blurted. “These are some great waters that you’ve got around here. We don’t have anywhere near as many fish in the Thames River back in London. It caught me off-guard.”

Pocahontas used her paddle to push them off the riverbank. They headed down the beautiful Pamunkey River, Rolfe providing the power for the canoe while she provided the steering.

As they headed farther downstream, the waters started to get a bit choppy and faster. Pocahontas glanced over her shoulder to John Rolfe, who appeared to be unsteady and nervous about the speed at which they were going. “Pocahontas, are you sure this is safe? What if we hit a rock?”

“Don’t worry, John,” Pocahontas reassured him. “I know where the rocks are. I’ve been on these waters thousands of times since I was a young child. There is nothing to worry about.” She knew she would have to steer clear of any waterfalls or overly-rough streams for Rolfe and Nakoma’s sake, which was too bad because Pocahontas really enjoyed the rushing waters. The Powhatan princess had always been a thrill-seeker, a fact that made her father very nervous, so she usually kept her little adventures a secret from him. “This way, around that bend up ahead. The waters will become much wider and calmer soon enough,” Pocahontas indicated, pointing.

There was still quite a bit of rock-solid ice on the banks, so they stayed closer to the middle of the waterway. Shimmering sheets of ice flowed down the river along with them, melting slowly as they went. John Rolfe tried to use his oar to slow the canoe down, but the waters were so fast that it made little difference. Soon enough, though, they had reached the fork in the river and gone around the bend, heading into much calmer water. Rolfe chuckled. “Well, I have to say the advantage to such waters is not having to paddle quite as much to get where you’re going.”

Pocahontas smiled and glanced back at him. “Don’t worry. It won’t take long to get there.”

They avoided waterfalls and rough waters by going the long steady route. After a while, John Rolfe squinted his eyes into the distance and noticed that they were approaching a massive tree with great drooping leaves. The disoriented Englishman started to experience a bizarre sense of deja-vu and was forced to do a double-take at first. He put his paddle down across his lap and rubbed his eyes clear.  _ “Wow,” _ John Rolfe murmured aloud, watching as they drew nearer and nearer to the mysterious grove. “This might sound crazy, Pocahontas, but I have the strangest feeling like I’ve been here before. I know that’s impossible, yet it looks weirdly familiar.”

Pocahontas grinned lightly. “Oh, maybe you’ve just seen a tree like it before,” she jested.

_ “Must be,” _ John Rolfe uttered below his breath, staring wide-eyed. He picked up his oar again and helped propel them in the direction of the enormous weeping willow. The waters were so calm in the area that only the canoe and its paddles added any ripples to the surface at all. There were frozen patches of dried up lily pads from the previous year. Something about the tree and its impressive grandiosity reminded Rolfe of a cathedral. As they came closer, it towered over them. Soon enough, they were entering the veil of budding branches. “This is spectacular,” John Rolfe remarked. “I mean, really, it’s quite astounding. Is this place special to you, Pocahontas?”

Pocahontas glanced back with a little smile on her face and nodded. “Yes, very special. We call it the Enchanted Grove. Lots of animals live here and many are still in hibernation.”

“I see,” John Rolfe replied as it grew a bit darker from the density of the branches. He ducked out of the way to avoid getting scratched by the low-hanging limbs. The tree hidden inside was a massive gnarled thing with great big overarching roots which extended out over the water. “I’ll bet this tree is the most magnificent in the forest when it blooms. What color are the flowers?”

“Lavender,” Pocahontas replied, steering the canoe right up onto one of the low shallow roots. She set down her oar and climbed out, turning back to take the picnic basket from Nakoma. The Powhatan princess set the basket aside before helping her friend out of the canoe. She pulled the canoe farther onto shore so it would not drift away and helped Rolfe clumsily crawl out of it.

When the Englishman was finally standing at the base of the willow, he looked up and observed his surroundings with his mouth agape and his eyes dilated. “Wow, this has to be one of the most beautiful trees I’ve ever seen. When it blooms, I should like to come back and paint it.”

“That’s a great idea,” Pocahontas agreed. By the time she turned back toward the tree, Nakoma had already taken the picnic basket and pushed it up onto the sawed-off stump that Pocahontas normally sat on when spending time in the area. “Careful, Nakoma. Do you need help?”

“I think I got it,” Nakoma replied as she gingerly climbed up to the surface of the stump.

By the time both Nakoma and Pocahontas had gotten themselves comfortable, the latter looked around and wondered where John Rolfe had wandered off to. “John, where are you? Come over here,” Pocahontas called out, craning her neck in an effort to see where he had gone to.

John Rolfe came back around the other side of the tree, climbing over a root. “I was just looking at everything. This is such a gorgeous place and there are so many animals around here. I’m surprised they didn’t run away when we came along,” he remarked, glancing up at her. “What are you doing all the way up there?” he asked, noticing the girls had climbed to a lofty position.

Pocahontas beckoned him with a hand. “Come on, this is where we’re eating lunch.”

The gentleman frowned. “You’re going to make me climb all the way up there?”

“Oh, come on,” she teased. “It’s not that hard. I’ll help you. Come to the other side, it’s easier.”

John Rolfe sighed, but he did as she asked. He circled the thick trunk and began to crawl up onto a root. The diplomat accepted Pocahontas’s hand as she helped him onto the high stump. Then he crawled to the far end nearest the calm water and dangled his feet over the side, admiring their surroundings. As he speculated over curious thoughts, Rolfe glanced upwards and noticed a nice thick branch hanging directly overhead. “You ever thought about putting a swing there?”

Pocahontas laughed. “Turn around, John,” she told him as Nakoma served the dishes from the picnic basket in the center of the stump. “It’s time to eat now. Aren’t you hungry?”

“Oh? Yes,” John Rolfe replied. He spun around on his backside and crossed his legs just like the girls were doing. It made him a little nervous to be high off the ground, but fortunately it was not too terribly high. He glanced downward to observe that the dishes consisted of roast fish, pork dumplings, venison steaks, and a lovely variety of other tasty-looking culinary items. “Well, this looks rather appetizing,” he remarked. When Pocahontas handed him his own plate, he gathered a few things onto it and started to eat. As he ate lunch, he kept observing his surroundings with a look of wonderment on his face. “Have you ever climbed this tree before?” he suddenly asked.

“Of course,” Pocahontas returned. “You know me. I’ll climb anything that’s climb-able.”

John Rolfe chuckled. “It must be a spectacular view from the top of the tree, not that I’d ever make it up there. This place reminds me of a cathedral. There’s just something about it that feels almost… sacred, I suppose. What do you think, Pocahontas?” the diplomat inquired.

“This  _ is _ a sacred place,” Pocahontas related as Nakoma nodded in agreement. “It is tribal law to never cut into any part of this tree. And no hunting or trapping of animals is allowed within this area. There are many legends surrounding this place that come from ancient times.”

John Rolfe’s eyes popped open. “Wow, really?”

Pocahontas nodded. Then Nakoma cleared her throat and said, “So, John, tell me more about yourself. Pocahontas has told me about what happened in London and during your journey back to Tsenacomoco, but what of your friends and family back home? Did you grow up in London?”

John Rolfe raised a brow. “Oh? I grew up partly in London and partly in Heacham. My family owns an estate in the latter place. It was a nice area to grow up in, right by the seaside like your lands here. London is a little more inland, but it’s connected to the sea by the Thames River. Um, let’s see… What else do you want to know? I have five siblings,” he explained, showing her five fingers to illustrate the point. “One of them is my identical twin, Eustace. When we were seven, Eustace and I started to attend the Saint Amantius Private Grammar School for Boys located in Canterbury, England. I suppose you could say we partly grew up in Canterbury. Saint Amantius is one of the most prestigious schools in all of England. We were very fortunate to attend.”

Nakoma raised a brow in curiosity. “I don’t know what a school is. Is that where you learned how to write?” she inquired. “Pocahontas learned from a couple who live in Jamestown. She did not go to school for it. That’s the only reason I ask. I’m just curious. What is school for?”

“I learned reading and writing at home from tutors. For me, school was for much more advanced subject matter,” John Rolfe related. “Like literature, rhetoric, fencing, and arithmetic.”

Nakoma laughed. “I don’t know what any of those things are.”

“Well, fencing is learning to fight with swords. Pocahontas has done some of that. She can tell you about it,” John Rolfe detailed, pausing. He turned to address Pocahontas. “On that note, do you want to continue learning, Pocahontas? On the pirate ship, the main reason I started that was to give you a form of self-defense against the pirates. But I noticed that you seemed to enjoy it.”

Pocahontas nodded. “Yes, that sounds fun. Do you know where to find practice swords?”

“I’ll check the armory.”

Nakoma blinked. “Wait… you taught her fencing so she could defend herself? I always assumed you did it to help maintain the illusion that she was a male while you were on the ship.”

John Rolfe raised a brow. “Uh, well, yes. That was an added benefit.”

“That’s interesting…” Nakoma remarked.

The Englishman gave her a curious look. “How so?”

“The warriors never teach the women to use any weapons. Pocahontas had to beg her father to teach her to use just a bow and he never really understood her desire to learn it,” Nakoma said. “Right, Pocahontas? It’s almost like they don’t want us to be able to defend ourselves.”

John Rolfe shook his head. “No, no. I’m sure Pocahontas’s father would want her to have some self-defense in case the men should fail to stop an attack, just as an added precaution. He loves her very much, I can tell,” he indicated. “Who would want their loved ones to be helpless?”

“What you’re saying makes perfect sense,” Nakoma returned. “But most warriors don’t seem to rationalize it the way that you do. That is all I am saying. I am sure my husband loves me very much as well, but he wouldn’t even consider letting me touch his bow or quiver.”

“Hm,” Rolfe mused. “Maybe he’s afraid you’ll hurt yourself? I don’t know, it’s hard to say.”

“And you’re not afraid that Pocahontas will hurt herself while fencing?”

John Rolfe chuckled. “It’s pretty hard to hurt oneself with a wooden sword. I mean, I suppose you could wallop yourself on the head with it, but she’s not dumb like that. Now, I may have done that once, but I was a small child at the time so I have a decent excuse.”

Pocahontas raised a brow. “You walloped yourself with a wooden sword?”

“Not on purpose! I was like four years old. It was literally the first time I’d ever touched one.”

She giggled. “Well, what happened?”

The Englishman shrugged. “I ended up with a lump on my head for about a week.”

“Ow,” Pocahontas remarked. “Did your parents let you hold one again after that?”

“Yes,” John Rolfe replied. “My father taught me and my brothers how to hold it properly. He also taught us all the basic positions and moves. Thereafter, I went to school to learn the more advanced techniques. On that note, Pocahontas, you advanced a lot faster than I did.”

“That’s probably because you were a small child when you started.”

He laughed. “True.”

Nakoma chimed in. “What are the names of your brothers and sisters, other than Eustace?”

“My eldest brother is Edward and the second eldest is Samuel. They were both already in Saint Amantius before Eustace and I. I also have two elder sisters, Elizabeth and Anna. All my siblings are married now, except Eustace. And, last I checked, I had four nephews and four nieces.”

Nakoma raised a brow. “Do you have any younger siblings?”

John Rolfe shook his head. “No, even Eustace came out ahead of me.”

“Interesting.”

They continued eating and chatting for about an hour before John Rolfe realized the time. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Pocahontas. I am supposed to go have tea with the Midwinters soon. I mustn’t be late,” he exclaimed, pushing himself up from his seated position. “Excuse me, love.”

Pocahontas moved out of his way so he could crawl back down to the base of the tree. “Do you know the way, John? If you go east, you should be able to find the trail between Werowocomoco and Jamestown. Don’t get lost!” she warned him. “You sure you don’t need the canoe?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be fine,” John Rolfe returned. “Thanks for the directions. I must hurry!”

As he disappeared through the willow tree foliage, Pocahontas sighed dreamily and turned to take John Rolfe’s spot so she could face Grandmother Willow. “Well, what do you think?”

The old tree’s face appeared in the bark looking excited. “Oh, my dear child! That man is not just handsome, he’s positively adorable! You really know how to pick ‘em, don’t you?” she declared without a moment’s hesitation. “And I see what you mean about his voice. It’s nice and deep and smooth as doeskin,” she added with a rapturous sigh, her words making Pocahontas flush. 

“You know what I like about him?” Nakoma chimed. “He’s just really nice. It was so sweet of him to help me carry the basket. Usually I have to be doubled over in pain before Chogan takes notice,” she giggled. “I know how much he loves me, but he just seems less observant at times.”

“I wonder if we could get John and Chogan to like each other. What do you think?” Pocahontas suggested. “I need someone to teach him how to hunt. I’m sure my father would teach him, but he is busy a lot, being chief and all. I just need an experienced hunter who isn’t going to laugh at him or harangue him if he messes up.” She sighed. “If only we still had Siwili. He would have been perfect for the job. I miss him and Awenasa. I wonder what they’re doing right now.”

Nakoma rubbed her chin. “I’m not sure. I doubt Chogan is the best choice. He’s always disliked the white settlers, even in times of peace,” she disclosed. “In fact, most of our warriors have always been pretty skeptical towards them. You know, if it weren’t for the fact that Naganwaya wanted to marry you, I might have recommended him. I hope they don’t clash too hard when the chief finally announces your engagement to the village. I guess I’m just worried because I was thinking of Kocoum. I’d never want something like that to happen again. I felt so guilty.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Nakoma. I could’ve done a better job of explaining why I was doing what I was doing. I was reserved about that and I shouldn’t have been. I should have been open and honest. If I had been, I’m sure Kocoum would still be alive right now,” Pocahontas replied sadly.

“What’s done is done,” Grandmother Willow decreed. “It is in the past now and Kocoum’s spirit is as rest. Forgiveness has been exchanged and peace established. What more could we ask for?”

The two girls nodded in agreement. “Well, anyway,” Pocahontas continued, “do you really think my father is going to say yes? I’ve been so worried these past days. If he finds a reason to refuse us, I would be so devastated. I wouldn’t know what to do. I can’t live without John!”

Nakoma chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll say yes. I personally think your father is just testing you to see how resolved you really are to marry him,” she returned, starting to put the dishes away. “He probably just wants to make sure that you are completely certain of your decision.”

“I think he’ll say yes too,” Grandmother Willow chimed. “Now, get on and tell us the rest of the story, my dear. I can’t wait to hear about the rest of your trip with that lovely young man.”

Nakoma smiled. “Yes, I can’t wait to hear the rest either.”

“Alright, alright,” Pocahontas conceded. “I believe when I last left off the story, I was on the part about Nicole. Well, she was a very devious girl who did not take rejection very well…”

…

Later that evening, when church was almost over, John Rolfe was starting to get hungry for dinner. It was still an hour before suppertime, so he said his final prayers and planned to go distract himself at the inn by finishing the letter he had to write to his kindred. The letters to the king and queen and John Smith were already completed and packed up in the mail crate of the  _ Winifred _ . As he was heading toward the inn, two more couples stopped him on his way there and invited him to dinner on other nights. Word had gotten around that some folks were inviting him to their homes and now others wanted to do the same once the idea had occurred to them. It had come to be a prestigious position in Jamestown to be considered a personal friend of John Rolfe.

Naturally, the diplomat accepted both invitations and added them to his monthly calendar as soon as he got back to the inn. He busied himself with completing the letter he had started months ago which was addressed to his parents, finishing it just in time for dinner with the Spurlings. He left the letter with the first mate of the  _ Winifred _ on his way to the Spurling residence. When he arrived at the house with the black-framed door, still dressed in his church clothes, Rolfe stopped and knocked. It was quite literally less than a second before the door swung open for him.

Esther Spurling stood in the doorway with excitement written all over her face. Though Rolfe was almost startled at first, the delicious scent of food soon distracted him. His stomach growled. “Lord Rolfe! Thank you so much for coming. I do hope you’re hungry. We’ve prepared quite the little feast this evening,” she announced enthusiastically, ushering him inside.

She took his cloak and hung it up on the wall hooks. The first thing John Rolfe saw when he entered the humble home was a delicious repaste set out on the modest wooden family table. “Oh, wow! This is quite impressive, I must say,” he remarked as Kellam pulled a chair out for him at the head of the table. “For me? Isn’t that your spot, Mr. Spurling?” he asked.

“Normally, yes. But you are our guest of honor. It’s a family tradition to put favored guests at the head of the table,” Kellam replied as he helped John Rolfe take his place and get comfortable.

The English gentleman smiled. “Thank you so much.” Yvette Spurling was already seated to his left, her face turning a light pink when she looked at him. When he squinted his eyes, it appeared that she was wearing a layer of white powder that made her face look absolutely flawless. Even her lips had been rouged ever so subtly. “Good evening, Ms. Spurling. How have you been?”

Despite the makeup, her face turned even pinker when he addressed her. “Oh, g-good evening,” she spoke, her voice cracking at first. She hurriedly cleared it. “Pardon me. Good evening, Lord Rolfe. Did you enjoy the church service this evening?” she inquired in a mouse-like voice.

“Yvette, do speak up. You can be hard to hear sometimes, love,” her mother reminded her.

Yvette cleared her throat again. “Yes, Mum. Sorry,” she spoke again, a bit louder. “I was j-just wondering how you enjoyed the church service this evening, Lord Rolfe. I thought that Pastor Whitaker made an excellent point about the reasoning behind God’s destruction of Babylon.”

“Oh! That sermon was a delight to the ears,” John Rolfe replied. “Our pastor surely has a way with words. He’s so practiced at rhetoric and has such deep insight, it really helps all the little scattered puzzle pieces in the Bible fall into place. I fail to understand how some people can get bored at church unless they simply don’t understand. But Pastor Whitaker so good at translating to the language of the common people that one would have to be pretty dull to not comprehend.”

“Agreed!” Yvette returned, a little more enthusiastically than she intended to. Then she blushed again. “Oh, how I wish I could read a Bible myself. I would read the whole thing front to back every year of my life!” she lamented, her face falling a bit. “It would be a dream come true.”

“You can’t read?” John Rolfe inquired.

Yvette flushed after realizing the information that she had revealed, but she shook her head in earnest. “Forgive me, my lord, I am ashamed of my ignorance,” she admitted sadly.

The diplomat frowned. “Why, there’s no need to be ashamed. Surely it’s no fault of your own. If you haven’t had the opportunity to learn, then what else were you to do? It’s really not fair that common folk are forced to labor day in and day out with nary long enough a break to even learn their letters. But that is something I intend to change around here. Would you like to have the opportunity to learn how to read and write, Ms. Spurling? This spring and summer, I am going to have a school constructed for the illiterate children of Jamestown. It is my intention to rearrange everything so children can make time in their schedules for some formal learning.”

Mr. Spurling had taken his seat at the other end of the table as his wife served the food. They both froze and exchanged glances before Mrs. Spurling peered back at John Rolfe. “You’re really going to do that?” Esther asked. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Yvette, you’ll be able to read the Bible all by yourself! Oh…” she said, turning back to Rolfe. “But how will we find time for it? The new governor is charging for the food again. We admit that he is much more reasonable than Thomas West was, but with that plus taxes, we’re all going to need to work to make ends meet.”

“That won’t be the case for long, Mrs. Spurling. This spring we’re going to plant all the fertile fields around the settlement with corn, squash, beans, and all kinds of other edibles. The fallow fields will be used to breed livestock. I’ve worked this out with our interim governor myself. You will not be required to pay for the fruit of your own labors. The only reason Governor Wingfield must charge right now is because the Virginia Company needs to recoup some of the money it has spent to keep the colony alive. Once our first harvest comes in July, that is when the school will open. You might actually find you have some leisure time at that point. Just wait and see.”

Esther Spurling placed a hand to her chest in disbelief. “Sakes alive, that is wonderful news. We will finally be allowed to grow our own food? Then we’ll be independent and safe from a future winter starvation at last. Oh, I wonder what it feels like to have leisure time…”

“I’m sure you’ll soon find out,” John Rolfe replied, taking a bite out of a fluffy bread roll. He chewed and swallowed. “But we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us to get to that place. The colony has a long to-do list for this spring and summer. Many new homes will have to be built. We need to dig new wells. I heard that people got sick from the river water being too salty last autumn, so that one is pretty urgent. We also need to build the new schoolhouse, prepare the fields, and plant all of the crops in accordance with Chief Powhatan’s instructions. Less urgently, it would be wise to build a mill at some point. The people of the settlement will have a lot more leisure time when they don’t have to grind all their grain by hand anymore. Oh! And since the storehouse ended up destroyed, we’ll need to rebuild it and make it much bigger to account for the new settlers.”

“You have big plans for Jamestown, I see,” Kellam Spurling remarked. “I like young men who are full of ambition. It is very becoming, Lord Rolfe. So the Powhatans have agreed to teach us their farming techniques? You really are a diplomat of extraordinary skill, my boy.”

John Rolfe appeared delighted. “Oh, yes! I’m glad you brought that subject up. With our new peace treaty, the Powhatans have agreed to a knowledge exchange program. They’re going to teach us what they know in exchange for us teaching them what we know. Some things they have told me that they’d like to learn from us are the arts of blacksmithing and gunsmithing. And that’s where you and Mr. Wheeler come in. Obviously, they’ll need to be taught the basics first.”

Kellam Spurling looked hesitant. “Teach them to make guns? Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if they turn on us?” he inquired, appearing a bit nervous at the suggestion.

“If we keep working hard at building trust, that won’t happen. And sharing knowledge is part of that trust-building. Besides, if we are attacked by the Spanish, the Powhatans will be of much better military assistance to us if they are properly armed. Bows and arrows won’t have much effect against powerful Spanish cannons. Ultimately, I believe the risk is greater if we withhold our knowledge from them. The Spanish pose a much greater threat, after all,” Rolfe explained.

Mr. Spurling nodded. “You make a compelling argument. Alright, Lord Rolfe, I’m in.”

John Rolfe grinned in excitement. “Wonderful! Thank you so much, Mr. Spurling.”

…

**APRIL 10, 1614**

Every day for over a week, John Rolfe spent his mornings collecting maple sap with Pocahontas and bringing the gatherings to Kekata. He really enjoyed the morning excursions with his lady friend, as it gave them time to bond despite his busy schedule. In the afternoon, the leaders of the Powhatan Confederacy came to the settlement to meet with the Jamestown council. Since there were so many people of high status present, they all met in the drawing room of the town hall.

The first thing John Rolfe and Edward Wingfield did when everyone arrived was to go over the terms of the peace treaty with the werowances. A small amount of debate and diplomacy took place before some minor amendments were made, which were generally pleasing to everyone. The settlers agreed to lend the Powhatans more muskets and even several soldiers for their war effort against the Monacans, which they intended to launch in late May. At last, everyone made their mark and the peace treaty was officially in effect. Afterward, Chief Powhatan approached John Rolfe with his daughter by his side. “Now is time for you to come to Werowocomoco and teach the warriors to shoot the fire-sticks. They are all ready and present. I remind you it was part of our agreement. Going forward, my people expect the settlers to keep to their word.”

“Yes, sir,” John Rolfe replied. “I’m ready.”

Pocahontas appeared antsy as the two men spoke to each other. Chief Powhatan took notice of his daughter’s restlessness. “Are you alright, Pocahontas?” the chief inquired.

“Yes, Father. I-I guess I’m just anxious to get back home,” she blurted, turning to address Rolfe. “After you’re done giving shooting lessons to the warriors, Father will have his answer for us.”

Chief Powhatan nodded. “I spoke to the whole council this morning and came to a decision,” he confirmed, his facial expression giving nothing away about the nature of said decision.

John Rolfe started to get anxious too, but he tried not to show it. “Yes, sir. I will come to see you as soon as I’m done teaching your men how to operate the muskets,” he returned.

“Come, we’ll bring you to Werowocomoco by canoe,” Powhatan offered.

…

When John Rolfe arrived in Werowocomoco, Chief Powhatan and Pocahontas escorted him to the shooting range. Hundreds of warriors from all different villages were lined up to learn how to load and shoot the English muskets. The diplomat was surprised that so many men were there. He had only expected the warriors from Werowocomoco to attend the lesson, but in fact there were many more. They would have to take turns using the muskets because there simply were not enough to go around. The men had to literally gather around him in a circle to be able to see what he was doing. Pocahontas stood by his side to translate as he walked them through the steps of loading and shooting the rifles. When he finished his explanation, he had some of the warriors move out of the way of the targets in the shooting range. From quite a far distance back, he aimed at a target and shot it very close to the middle. Part of the target was obliterated.

The warriors, especially the ones from other villages, all appeared to be stunned by the power of the fire-spitting weapons. Some of them even ran over to examine the damaged target after the devastating shot. John Rolfe beckoned them back to their places and Pocahontas translated as the first line of warriors took hold of and loaded the muskets. Then Pocahontas and Rolfe got out of the way as they took aim at the targets. A series of loud booms erupted into the air as the men squeezed the triggers. Very few of them actually hit a target. “Excellent!” John Rolfe declared. “Very good, men. You’ve done well. Now, hand over your weapon to the next brave in line.”

The warriors all looked at each other before one of them protested, “But we did not even hit the targets. Why are you congratulating us?” It was Naganwaya, a brave who always lived by very high standards. He was not about to take credit for what he believed to be a failure.

John Rolfe raised a brow in confusion. “But that’s the first time you ever shot a musket. You need practice to become accurate, my friend. I was congratulating you all for loading and firing them correctly without blowing your own or anyone else’s head off in the process.”

Naganwaya snorted, looking very displeased with himself as he handed his musket to the next man behind him. The others did the same. It took several hours to make sure all the men had memorized the procedure perfectly so they would not accidentally hurt anyone when operating the dangerous weapons. By the time they were done, it was evening and the sun leaned near the trees. With a hand motion, Chief Powhatan beckoned John Rolfe and Pocahontas to follow him as the warriors continued to practice by themselves. They walked up the hill to the Powhatan family longhouse and went inside. There were a few family members in the building, including Sooleawa. She gave Pocahontas and John Rolfe a big smile when they arrived, which they found encouraging. They both had been sweating bullets during the short walk home.

Chief Powhatan shooed the children out of the room before sitting on his throne. John Rolfe and Pocahontas stood before him, beside each other, and Sooleawa sat on a nearby bench watching her husband. “Alright, like I said, I’ve come to a decision,” he began. “I discussed your proposal to my daughter in great detail with the council this morning and we believe that such a union would be beneficial to our nation. Not only will it promote trust and peace between our peoples, but it will also provide additional stability that the people really need right now. However, there was one major concern that was brought up by several of my werowances. It is the matter of your fealty, Ulkekahone. I informed them that you told me your loyalties lay with my daughter first and foremost and, by extension, with us—as well as with the Great Spirit. To quell the fears of some of our elders, the council has requested to hear you make a vow in person that you will not betray the Powhatan Nation, so long as we ourselves do not become corrupt. We understand your first priority must be to do the right thing at all costs and we respect that. But if you are going to marry my daughter, technically that will make you part of our tribe. And as part of our tribe, you must formally swear loyalty to us before you can join. Are you willing to do this?”

“Yes, sir,” John Rolfe replied. “Those terms sound perfectly reasonable to me.”

Chief Powhatan’s face lightened as if he had been worried that the gentleman might not agree to the conditions. “Excellent. But, just so you know, the council wants you to say your vow in Powhatan so they can all understand it. I can dictate the words and you simply repeat after me. Does that sound agreeable to you?” Chief Powhatan inquired for confirmation.

John Rolfe nodded. “But first I should like to know exactly what I’m saying.”

“Of course. I can tell you now. The words are, ‘Sequen temorezimequat Ulkekahone sin abotoss getuinomuss uvetteke peya Powhatan siroqueth lofumuss kiwiwantossa legiritnowse mowenw avingtenat siliwicolotamoraquen inditititavia, uluquoquw ilvisuirough newhawper. Deyi vigeno legonomonorat zighwigh sepaughtynere viletequensolongso oi lofississentinto avodact.’ The translation is, ‘I, who am known as Favored by the Great Spirit, swear to everyone present before me and the rest of the Powhatan people that I will follow tribal law to the fullest extent and I will never betray the Nation as long as I live on this earth, allowing for an exception in the case of serious corruption. These words I swear on all that is important to me to be done until the end of my days.’ That is the vow the council agreed upon. Is it agreeable to you?” Powhatan asked.

“It is,” John Rolfe replied without hesitation. “But I have one request. When you dictate the vow, I beseech you to go one word at a time. I would not want to embarrass myself by messing up the pronunciation too terribly in front of your council. So when shall I make this vow?”

“Right now,” Chief Powhatan indicated, rising from his throne. “Come, the council is waiting in the communal longhouse. We must go to them now because it is getting late and they will depart at the break of dawn tomorrow morning. I’d prefer to get this done before the Werowocomoco village get-together tonight, which is going to start very soon. So let us hurry.”

John Rolfe nodded as he and Pocahontas followed Chief Powhatan out of the family longhouse. The village was bustling with activity when they walked outside. Children were roughhousing, women were cooking, warriors were preparing the bonfire, and the musicians were gathering in the village center. Powhatan, Rolfe, and Pocahontas walked down the hill eastward and through part of the village before they arrived at the communal longhouse. Smoke was coming out of the hole on the rooftop when they approached. Powhatan turned to his daughter. “You stay out here, Pocahontas. We will not be long. If everything goes according to plan, we will announce your engagement to the whole village this evening before supper,” Powhatan told her.

The Powhatan princess had been about to protest, but then she looked excited. “Yes, Father!”

He smiled at her as a guard pulled the reed mat barrier aside to allow the men entrance. Chief Powhatan went inside first, followed by John Rolfe. Pocahontas felt her heart pounding, unable to contain her excitement. She addressed the adolescent warrior who stood guard outside of the communal longhouse. He was someone she had known for years. “Chamah, when they get out, let them know I went to Dyani’s house. Tell them to come and get me,” Pocahontas requested.

“Yes, Pocahontas,” the young man replied.

After that, Pocahontas skipped off to a nearby yehakin. “Dyani, are you home? I want to tell you something,” she called, listening for a reply. Seconds later, Dyani poked her head out.

“What is it, Pocahontas? I was just cooking up some steaks for the festivities tonight.”

“Is Hoko here?” Pocahontas asked. Dyani shook her head. “Can I come in then?”

Dyani smiled. “Of course,” she replied, holding the deer hide door aside to allow her friend entrance. “You look excited. What is this all about?” she inquired as the princess entered.

“It’s something I meant to tell you before. I told Nakoma, but I forgot to tell you. I hope you aren’t cross with me about it. I just want you to know that I’m going to be getting married soon. My father just gave his consent. I’m so excited!” Pocahontas related as she stepped inside.

Dyani screamed excitedly. “Seriously?!”

Pocahontas nodded. “It’s going to be announced to the village tonight.”

“Oh, wow! I can’t believe it. You and Naganwaya are going to be so happy together. Congrats!”

Pocahontas shook her head. “Nakoma thought it was Naganwaya too. But no, it’s someone else.”

Dyani froze, looking stunned. “Who else could it possibly be?”

The Powhatan princess smiled. “You’ll find out very soon. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“Well, can I help you plan your wedding at least? I’m a great wedding planner. You remember mine last year, don’t you? It was so much fun! Oh, I can’t wait. Since you’re a daughter of the chief, the event is probably going to be absolutely spectacular just like your huskanasqua was.”

“Yes, I’d love your help. In fact, why don’t we talk about it while I help you cook the venison steaks?” Pocahontas suggested, taking a seat by the fire. The steaks were already sizzling.

“They’re about halfway done,” Dyani said, taking a seat beside her.

Pocahontas used a pair of sticks to flip over one of the steaks. “So how did you go about planning your wedding? There is so much to do. It seems kind of complicated. I mean, I have an idea for my dress and all, but there’s also the matter of where to hold the ceremony, what to prepare for the feast, and then, of course, we have to plan out our wedding vows.”

“I would start with the dress. It’s the most important part, at least in my opinion. I happen to think you would look fabulous in indigo and goldenseal,” Dyani thought aloud as she flipped over the other steaks. They were cooking in lard on the hot flat rocks over the fire.

“That smells delicious,” Pocahontas remarked. “I’ve got to have venison steaks cooked in bear’s grease or lard for my wedding feast. That’s a must. But I’m not so sure about those colors for my dress. I want what I wear to match my mother’s necklace.” She placed a hand over said beloved piece of jewelry. “And I’ve gained some inspiration from the dresses I saw in London. There are some things I liked about the dress I wore to the Hunt Ball and some things I didn’t like. I wasn’t crazy about the color, but I did like the yellow trim and the frilly train in the back.”

“Oh, I wish I could have seen it. It must’ve been beautiful on you.”

Pocahontas giggled. “Well, you might get to see something like it at my wedding. I liked the shape of the gown and all the layers and ruffles, but I could have gone without the corset. Ugh, you have no idea how uncomfortable those things are. I don’t know how white women are able to tolerate them. It’s so hard to breathe,” she related, adjusting her position on the ground to get more comfortable. “I also like the idea of wearing a crown of flowers in my hair like Nakoma did. She looked absolutely beautiful and it was fun to help her make it before the ceremony.”

“What about sleeves with long fringes that taper when they get to your underarms? That would look pretty neat. Oh, I’d almost forgotten how much fun it was to plan a wedding! It’s too bad most women only get to do it once in their lives,” Dyani excitedly remarked.

“Actually, now that you mention it, I’m reminded of the red dress I wore after we captured the pirate ship. I thought those sleeves were beautiful. They were short and sheer with a gold trim. I do want fringes, but I want them to be around the bottom of the gown and around the neckline. I was thinking of something off-the-shoulder with turquoise and shell beads as a trim.”

Dyani scratched her chin. “But what color is the dress itself going to be and what kind of material are you going to use? If you want ruffles like the English women wear, that’ll be pretty heavy with buckskin. Are you going to make it out of hide at all?” she inquired.

“I want the bodice and trims to be white buckskin or doeskin and the gown to be some kind of soft white fabric. I’m not sure what it is that English dresses are made out of, but I will find out. I think those two materials have the potential to look great together if combined in the right way.”

“Your design sounds kind of complicated, Pocahontas,” Dyani observed. “You’re going to need to draw all this out somehow. Maybe you can use that thin flat stuff you get from Jamestown.”

Pocahontas laughed. “It’s called parchment. And yes, that’s a good idea.”

The two girls continued to chat for a few minutes. By the time the steaks were done cooking, they heard a knock on the door. “Pocahontas?” came the voice of John Rolfe.

“There he is!” Pocahontas announced, jumping up from the ground. She ran over to the door and pulled back the hide drape. The Englishman poked his head in and glanced around. Pocahontas pulled him inside and presented him to Dyani. “This is going to be my groom. You can call him Ulkekahone. That is the name Kekata gave to him,” Pocahontas revealed in Powhatan.

Dyani’s eyes widened. “Oh! It’s the man you went on the voyage with. I should’ve guessed!”

John Rolfe glanced from woman to woman, not sure what was being said, though he understood some of the individual words. “Pocahontas, we’re all done. We can attend the evening festivities now,” he informed her. “Your father’s waiting outside. He’s going to make the announcement very soon. And who is this? Is she a friend of yours?” he inquired, gesturing to Dyani.

“Her name is Dyani, Hoko’s wife,” Pocahontas disclosed, switching to English. “She’s a very good friend of mine and Nakoma’s. She’s going to help plan the wedding. We were just talking about it. But she doesn’t speak very good English yet, so talk slowly when you address her.”

The gentleman tipped his hat to Dyani. “Wingapo, Dyani,” he greeted, just before noticing the venison steaks. The sizzling scent was delectable. “I just realized that I’m hungry.”

“Well, let’s go then,” Pocahontas laughed. She told Dyani to come along in Powhatan.

As soon as they went outside, they saw Chief Powhatan standing there with two guards. “Come, Daughter,” he said. “It is time to announce your engagement to the rest of the village.”

Pocahontas felt like she was walking on air as they followed Chief Powhatan to the village center circle, yet anxiety rose in her chest. She worried about how the village might react. John Rolfe was feeling at least as nervous as Pocahontas, wondering how the Powhatans would receive him. Would they disapprove and jeer? He started sweating bullets as the bonfire illuminated the happy faces of the many men, women, and children who had gathered in the totem circle.


	12. Building a Future

Chief Powhatan stood on one of the steps that led up to the family longhouse, raising himself to a higher position than the populace. John Rolfe, Pocahontas, Dyani, Nakoma, and some elders stood in a group on his right. The totem circle was packed with people from many different tribes who gradually started to notice his presence. They all quieted down accordingly and turned to face him. Once silence reigned, the paramount chief raised a hand in the air. “Cheskchamay, I have an important message to announce to all members of our great nation before the festivities begin tonight. As you all know, the settlement of Jamestown has, as of late, greatly redeemed itself from its past actions against our people. In addition to providing us food during a starving time, they have provided weaponry as well as knowledge that will make short work of the upcoming war effort against the hostile Monacans to the far west. Those of you present from the Matticox tribe will soon be able to reclaim your lost homes and belongings at a minimal loss to our people. To seal this new alliance, a settler of great reputation has come forth with a marriage proposal for my daughter Pocahontas, born Amonute,” Powhatan announced, beckoning his daughter and John Rolfe forward. Once they stood before him, side by side, he turned them to face the crowd. “Ulkekahone has sworn an oath to our people and I have accepted his proposal.”

Powhatan placed a hand a few inches above John Rolfe's head and another above his daughter’s head. “Therefore, Ulkekahone and Pocahontas will be joined in sacred matrimony,” he decreed. Before he could even hope to continue, the crowd erupted into a symphony of ululations and boisterous cheers. John Rolfe could not help but notice that most of the voices sounded female. The children were jumping around and shrieking in excitement as well. When he glanced about, he noticed that every warrior he saw appeared to have the same shell-shocked expression on his face. Most of the men did nothing but stand there with their mouths agape and their eyes wide. Chief Powhatan raised a hand to quiet the crowd. “Aftward,” he continued, “they intend to settle here in Werowocomoco and raise a family together. With permission from the council, this man is now a member of the Powhatan tribe. So do not be afraid to approach him and speak with him as you would any other villager. Ulkekahone is trying to learn our tongue, so I encourage you all to help him in that endeavor by speaking to him in Powhatan as often as you can. That’s all that I have to share with you this evening. Now, may the feast and festivities begin!”

Pocahontas could scarcely stop herself from bouncing up and down in excitement. She had not even noticed how the warriors were reacting when she heard the ululations, especially the ones she knew were coming from Nakoma and Dyani behind her. The Powhatan princess turned to John Rolfe and threw her arms around his neck as she kissed him in front of everybody. It was a great relief to not have to keep their relationship a secret any longer. When the announcement was over, Chief Powhatan signaled for the festivities to begin and a huge crowd enveloped the newly-engaged couple. Pocahontas and John Rolfe were bombarded with questions as the music started. They did their best to answer all of them, Pocahontas having to act as a translator for John Rolfe and those who did not speak English. After a few minutes, a gratuitous quantity of food was being served all around the totem circle. One woman was handing out plates and others bore great platters of varied food items. Rolfe and Pocahontas took their seats in a social circle consisting of Nakoma, Dyani, Chief Powhatan, and werowances from other villages.

Meanwhile, as John Rolfe was eating his dinner, a group of curious little children snuck up behind him. When he felt the sensation of someone lightly pulling on his ponytail, the English diplomat jumped in surprise and glanced over his shoulder. His sudden movement startled the children who were examining him and they ran off squealing. “Uh, oh,” John Rolfe uttered. He beckoned the kids to come back. “It’s alright. You just surprised me,” he expressed.

Pocahontas glanced back and giggled. “Come on,” she said in Powhatan, gesturing for the little ones to return. “He’s not mad at you. You can look at him if you want. He doesn’t mind.”

“Did you just tell them that I’m angry?” John Rolfe inquired, understanding some of the words.

Pocahontas laughed. “No, I told them that you weren’t angry. I said ‘neer,’ which means not.”

“Oh, right. I missed that,” John Rolfe replied, spinning on his rear to face toward the children.”

“John, I want you to eat your food before you play with them,” Pocahontas beseeched, tapping him on the shoulder. “You are still too thin from this past winter. Be a good example to the kids and finish your stew,” she said, handing him his bowl. Then she took another plate and stacked venison steaks and fish on it. “And once you’re done with that, you must eat all of this.”

The Englishman frowned. “That’ll make me sleepy if I eat all of that,” he whined as some of the kids started to approach him again. Pocahontas took his hat off and pulled out his hair strap, setting both aside before tousling his hair to let the children know that it was okay to touch as well as look. “Hey!” Rolfe protested. “Why are you messing up my hair? This calls for revenge,” he declared, doing the same to her. Pocahontas just laughed as he messed with her dark locks. Rolfe made his best efforts to fix his own hair before he was bombarded with attention again. Several of the youngest children ran up and started touching the auburn hair that Pocahontas had made so freely available. Rolfe snorted and turned back around, granting them full access. “Fine, touch it,” he conceded. “But no pulling.” Little hands started stroking his head as he went about the task of eating his dinner stew. He practically inhaled it before putting down his bowl. “Can I play with them now?” the diplomat inquired, glancing over his shoulder at the children gathered behind him. Pocahontas shook her head and put the plate of steaks and fish in his lap. He grunted in annoyance before picking up a sharp knife and cutting the meat into smaller pieces. “I don’t see why you must insist upon me eating so much in such a short period. There’s plenty of time to regain the weight I lost. Months, in fact. What is so urgent about all of this?” he inquired.

“I don’t think you realize just how much you lost, John,” Pocahontas replied.

The gentleman frowned and stuffed a piece of meat into his mouth. Buttered with lard, it was absolutely delicious. “Mm,” he groaned before chewing and swallowing. “Oh, wow. Your friend really knows how to cook a steak. It’s not dry at all,” he remarked, nodding to Dyani.

“Yeah, they are really good,” Pocahontas added. Dyani smiled.

When John Rolfe finished his meal, the kids were still playing with his hair. He snatched his hair strap back from Pocahontas and turned toward the children, straightening and tying his hair back again. “Wingapo, marowanchessos e usqwasenis,” he greeted, taking his thin leather gloves off and placing them on his knee. He picked up a little twig and started drawing in the dirt behind the reed mat, making a picture of a tall tree with bare leafless winter branches. “Tree.”

“Cacoushe,” said a rail-thin boy.

“Maukus, sivilquen getwhig novaloo,” Pocahontas said to the boy.

John Rolfe raised a brow. “His name is Maukus? Whose child is he?”

“He’s the son of a Matticox woman called Anguenusquema. She’s around here somewhere,” Pocahontas told him, glancing around. “His father Machk died when the Monacans attacked them. They almost starved when they fled, but fortunately your food donation saved their lives.”

John Rolfe frowned and raised a brow. “ I guess that explains why some of these children are so skinny. Thank goodness we didn’t lose them. And I’m sorry to hear that the boy lost his father.”

“It wasn’t just him who lost his father,” Pocahontas added, pointing to a girl near him. “Genessa and Maukus are twins. They’re only five years old and they both lost their father. The Monacans have gradually become a bigger and bigger problem for our people over the course of the last five years. We’re not even trying diplomacy anymore. They will not listen to anything we have to say. I just wish we could find out the reason they have become so hostile. I know they were starving too this past late winter, but they could have come to us for help rather than attacking us. There must have been some kind of change in their leadership. Father thinks someone usurped their old chief Shappa, but we do not know who the new ruler is or why he is being so unusually violent. For over a hundred years, we have always tried to keep on good terms with them since we know them to be torturers. They treat captured enemies very brutally, but that is usually restricted to those they want to glean information out of. Sometimes they torture for revenge as well. As you know, they just snatched my mother’s native lands away from our nation.”

John Rolfe reached over and placed a hand on her cheek. “I swear to you, we’re going to get your lands back. Maybe thereafter we can discover what’s changed with your enemies. I would never give up on diplomacy forever. Changes in leadership change everything. I’m sure there are plenty of Monacan commoners who want no part of this war with the Powhatan Nation. No need to condemn them over something they cannot control,” he said, running a hand through her hair.

“I appreciate the perspective you take on this, John. Sometimes, when we get attacked, our warriors get so angry it happened that they lose all sense of reason and restraint. Sometimes they want nothing more than to destroy the perpetrators and the rest of their people as well. That is what grief can do. Fortunately, we have a policy of not harming women or children,” Pocahontas returned, placing a hand over his. She leaned in and kissed John Rolfe on the lips.

When they drew back, Rolfe remarked, “That is always a good policy to have, though it is a shame one should have to harm the men either. I realize they pose a danger, but still…” He paused, his eyes haphazardly falling down to look at her beautiful turquoise necklace. “Oh! Pocahontas, I just remembered something important. I need to have an engagement ring made for you and wedding bands for the both of us. But the engagement ring comes first. What kind of engagement ring would you like? Gold and diamond are traditional, but since we’re already…”

“What is this about a ring?” Chief Powhatan inquired, overhearing them talk.

John Rolfe glanced over at him. “It’s an important English tradition.”

“You don’t have to get me anything special, John,” Pocahontas replied, holding one of his hands.

The diplomat raised a brow. “You don’t want a ring?”

“What are these rings for besides to show off wealth?” she probed in skepticism.

John Rolfe froze and then thought for a moment. “Well, an engagement ring is the traditional way to announce a betrothal among the English. The settlers will expect me to publicly kneel, present you with the engagement ring, and then ask you to marry me. That is how it’s done in most of Europe,” he explained. “It’s a public declaration of love. And it lets the Jamestown populace know that we’re engaged. And then, during the actual wedding, we exchange wedding bands. Every Englishwoman knows that a man wearing a wedding band is married, just as every Englishman knows a woman wearing an engagement ring and a wedding band is married.”

Pocahontas’s eyes snapped open. She thought back to the snooty gentleman’s daughter back in Jamestown. Internally, Pocahontas knew she would love to see the look on Grace’s face during such an event. And then a wedding band on Rolfe would let every future settler woman know he was not available. It was an ideal solution to the feelings of resentment she had been suffering from. “Get the rings,” Pocahontas conceded. “I’m okay with following tradition sometimes.”

John Rolfe smiled and nodded. “What materials do you want the rings made out of? Like I said, gold and diamond are traditional, but if you would prefer something that matches your necklace, I’m sure I can make arrangements for that with the Jamestown jeweller,” he disclosed.

Pocahontas placed a hand on her mother’s necklace and peered down at it, holding the pendant in her palm. “I have some uncarved turquoise stones that you could give to the jeweller.”

“That would be perfect for the stone. As for the ring itself, would you like it to be made out of some kind of metal or shell? I’ve seen shell rings before. They’re less common and probably more difficult to make, but they exist. We could have the ring made of shell, like your pendant there, and the stone could be turquoise. And then we could have matching shell wedding bands. I think that would look marvelous in combination with your necklace. Oh, but I’ll have to measure your ring finger so I can give the measurements to the jeweller,” John Rolfe declared.

“Yes! I’d love to have a shell ring with a turquoise stone. We have some shells that could be used for that purpose. I was keeping them to make beads, but I’ll give you some to give the jeweller,” Pocahontas said, hopping to her feet. She ran up the hill to the Powhatan family longhouse.

John Rolfe appeared to be pleased as she ran off. He peered over to Powhatan, Dyani, and Nakoma, all of whom were looking at him. “Well, I’m glad she’s excited,” he admitted, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Last time I bought her jewelry, it didn’t turn out so well…”

“This ring-exchanging thing,” Nakoma began. “It is part of an English wedding ceremony?”

John Rolfe nodded. “Yes.”

“Wait, there are how many rings in this?” Dyani inquired.

“Well, three,” John Rolfe replied. “The woman gets two and the man gets one. Sorry, I realize that might sound a bit confusing. Basically, the first ring is for the engagement and the other two are for the actual marriage. That’s really all you need to know,” he explained.

“So are you going to have an English wedding ceremony or a Powhatan one?” the chief inquired.

John Rolfe shrugged. “I’m sure Pocahontas will flesh out those details. And I’ll help however I can. It sounds to me like she at least wants to stick to the ring-exchange tradition, but that doesn’t necessarily exclude Powhatan customs. Who knows? She might elect to combine our traditions in some interesting way. You’ll have to ask her. As of yet, I have no idea what she wants.”

“She ask me to help plan wedding!” Dyani excitedly declared. “We talk about dress.”

John Rolfe raised a brow at Dyani. “What did you decide about the dress?”

She laughed. “I not tell you! Man only sees dress at wedding.”

The gentleman pouted. “You can’t even tell me about it?”

Dyani shook her head and Nakoma snickered. “It is one of our customs that the man can know nothing of the dress until he sees his bride in it at the wedding ceremony,” the latter revealed.

“English tradition has something like that, but it’s not quite as strict. The groom is allowed to see the dress, but he can’t see his bride wearing it until she’s walking down the aisle,” Rolfe related.

Chief Powhatan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “That’s interesting. It seems our traditions are not all that different after all. What other marriage traditions do the English have?”

John Rolfe smiled. “Well, there’s a priest or pastor who presides over the ceremony. There’s also the part where the bride’s father walks her down the aisle and metaphorically ‘gives her away’ to the groom. Oh, and there’s a big party afterwards called a reception. That’s the best part.”

“In our tradition, the father of the bride joins the hands of the bride and groom, but he does not walk her anywhere,” Chief Powhatan replied. “However, it seems to be the same idea of ‘giving away’ or symbolically joining the daughter to her new husband by joining their hands.”

John Rolfe raised his brows. “Honestly, I kind of like that idea better. Maybe that’s how we should do it. We can still do the ring-exchange, of course. Normally that part happens after the vows. The man says his vow to the woman and then puts her band on her left ring finger. Then the woman says her vow to the man and puts his band on his left ring finger. The priest then pronounces them officially married and they kiss. That’s the end of the wedding ceremony. The festivities start after that. The entire wedding party sings and dances and feasts.”

“We do speak vows as well,” Chief Powhatan revealed, “although there are no rings involved. The vows are considered the most important part of the whole ceremony, as the couple swears loyalty to each other. We also celebrate late into the night with feasting, dancing, and singing.”

John Rolfe continued to chat with Pocahontas’s brethren until she returned with a small pouch. Everyone went silent as she plopped down next to him and handed it to him. The Englishman raised a brow as he untied the sinew around the pouch and poured the contents into his hand. It included five pearly-white shells and a little turquoise stone. “Do you think that’s big enough?” she inquired, pointing to the turquoise stone. It matched the color of her necklace perfectly.

“Oh, yes. It’s plenty big,” John Rolfe confirmed, rolling it around in his hand. “In fact, it will probably have to be shaved down quite a bit from this size. This is actually quite perfect. If only I had measuring tape, I’d take your measurements right now. However, I think I’ll have to see the Jamestown jeweller for that. But it’s no matter, I’ll go see him first thing in the morning.”

“Ulkekahone,” Chief Powhatan spoke, gaining their attention. “I realize these rings are important to you, but I think the most pressing issue is where you’re going to build your home and when you are going to begin construction. Birchbark is harvested in the spring, as are saplings. That is why spring is the best time to build new houses. I suggest you and my daughter select a location tomorrow with my help. It will be a lot of laboring. I hope you are prepared for that.”

“I am not afraid of hard work, sir,” John Rolfe returned.

Pocahontas took him by the arm. “And I’ll help, of course. Don’t worry about what the warriors have to say about it. There is no law against teamwork. We survived pirates together and now we will get to build our lives together. I don’t know about you, but I’m really looking forward to it.”

…

**APRIL 11, 1614**

The first thing that John Rolfe did when he woke up the next morning, after getting dressed and eating breakfast, was to head straight to Carter Daugherty’s house. Both a jeweller and talented gold- and silversmith, the middle-aged fellow was known for his beautiful and detailed wedding bands. Every couple who had gotten married in Jamestown thus far had been a customer of his. When Rolfe arrived at the cottage which served both the man’s home and workshop, he knocked three times. “Coming!” called a male voice from inside. Soon enough a short stout man with a half-bald head of medium-red hair opened the door with a friendly smile on his face. “Oh, Lord Rolfe, what a surprise! You’re the last fellow I was expecting to show up at my humble abode. How can I help you, milord?” Mr. Daugherty paused. “This isn’t about the taxes, is it?”

John Rolfe chuckled. “No, my good man. Those have been taken care of. May I come in?”

“Of course, of course,” Carter Daugherty replied, stepping aside to allow his visitor entrance.

John Rolfe entered the small place and removed his hat, glancing around. There was a wooden counter with a lot of beautiful jewelry on display. In the back was a small workshop with many different tools lining the walls. While cluttered, it was pretty well organized. As soon as the door was closed, the diplomat turned his attention to the jeweller. “Mr. Daugherty, I come on behalf of a very special young lady who requires a very special engagement ring. I trust you’ll keep this a secret until I’ve a chance to properly propose to her. I find a public declaration of love is the best way to announce an engagement, don’t you?” Rolfe determined in a giddy tone of voice.

Carter Daugherty was about to open his mouth to reply when their attention was stolen by a sudden squeal coming from the back of the shop. The jeweller looked alarmed. “Oh, dear, I do hope I didn’t leave the kettle on! Forgive me, Lord Rolfe,” Carter declared, running to the back where the fireplace was. He glanced into the fire and saw no kettle.  _ “Hm, that’s strange,” _ he uttered to himself, scratching his bald head. He stood up and glanced out the cracked-open back window, seeing nothing and no one. Then he shrugged and returned to the front.

“Is everything alright?” John Rolfe asked.

Carter Daugherty nodded. “Yes, the kettle isn’t on the fire at all. Well, Lord Rolfe! I must admit I’m thrilled to hear you’ll be tying the knot soon. Who is the lucky lady if I might ask?”

John Rolfe chuckled. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. I intend to propose to her on bended knee in the town square once the ring is made. And that’s where you come in, my friend. I’ve got a very special design for an engagement ring in mind. I say, have you any experience with carving unusual substances such as shell? I see you’ve done plenty of stone,” he noted, observing the man’s previous work lining the counter. “This is some lovely work you’ve done.”

“Shell, you say? That should be no problem. But that is an unusual choice for an engagement ring. Whatever made you think of it, my boy?” Carter inquired out of genuine curiosity.

“It was requested by the lady in question. You see, I want the ring itself to be made of shell and the stone to be of turquoise. Let me show you,” Rolfe expressed, pulling the little pouch that Pocahontas had given him out of his pocket. He emptied the contents onto the counter as Carter came over to have a look. “We want both the wedding bands to be made of shell alone and the engagement ring to be of shell and turquoise. Do you think you can do that?” he asked.

“Hm,” the man thought aloud. “A very unusual request and, I’d have to say, a challenge. I do enjoy a good challenge. It’s not often I get to work with new materials,” he remarked, picking up one of the shells. He tapped it against the wooden counter and then tested its strength between his teeth. “It’s lighter than stone and probably more brittle. I can make a thicker-than-usual ring with it if you’d like, but there’s a chance it might break. I wouldn’t suggest a dainty little thing unless, of course, you’d prefer to use gold or silver and have the shell inlaid into the metal. Now, I think that would look glorious as well—to have a shell-inlaid silver ring with a turquoise stone on the top. Naturally, I’ll need the lady’s ring finger circumference. I can show you how to take the measurement and lend you the measuring tape to do so or you can bring the lady in for me to take the measurement. What is your preference, Lord Rolfe?” Mr. Daugherty queried.

“Well, I do like dainty little rings on dainty little fingers. They look so beautiful on young ladies. You know what? I’ll ask my fiancée and then get back to you on that. Oh, and I’ll need to borrow the measuring tape like you suggested,” John Rolfe replied. “I’ll take the measurement myself.”

Carter Daugherty took the turquoise stone in hand. “I’ll also need you to select a cut for the stone itself. Once we decide all the details, we can negotiate and work out a fair price,” he said.

“I think a smooth oval or circle cut would be best,” John Rolfe mused. “We have chosen these materials because we want the ring to match an heirloom necklace belonging to my fiancée.”

The jeweller scratched his chin. “In that case, it might be ideal if you can bring in the necklace itself for me to use for inspiration. I’m pretty good at making matching pieces of jewelry.”

“I can certainly ask to borrow it.”

Carter Daugherty smiled and then snapped out a length of measuring tape. “Excellent. Now, let me show you how to measure a finger. It’s really not difficult, but you must be precise.”

…

Temperance Plaskett was the only child of a master carpenter by the name of Anthony Plaskett. The girl took after her deceased mother in that she was just about the biggest gossip in all of Jamestown. She loved to snoop and share the secrets of others with whoever would listen and not rebuke her for eavesdropping. That usually included a small group of friends who were in her adolescent age range. Rumors would often grow from there after Temperance had planted the seed. Sometimes they proved true, sometimes false. The girl’s body shook with excitement as she knocked on the black-framed door to the Spurling home. She had what she believed to be an exclusive story to share with as many people as would listen, starting with her friend Yvette.

Mrs. Spurling opened the door, blinking in surprise at the sight of her daughter’s best friend. “Oh, Temperance! Hello there, my dear. I suppose you want to see Yvette? She’s just finishing her chores. Our house is a bit cluttered at the moment with spring cleaning, but I can send her over to your house if you’d like,” the older woman proposed in an amicable voice.

“Actually, I have news that I’d like to share with both you and Yvette,” Temperance replied.

Mrs. Spurling placed her hands on her hips in a stern manner. “Temperance Plaskett, I do hope you haven’t been eavesdropping again. You know you can get into very big trouble for that.”

Temperance backed up a bit. “W-well, I… I-it was entirely by accident. I was doing my chores outside and, as I passed by a house, I happened to overhear something I  _ know _ you’re going to want to know about, Mrs. Spurling,” the girl defensively explained, glancing around with suspicion. Temperance leaned in to whisper something in an enticing tone,  _ “It concerns Lord John Rolfe.” _ She waggled her eyebrows and giggled before clapping a hand over her mouth.

Mrs. Spurling raised a brow. “Lord Rolfe, you say?” she returned, appearing to be torn between wanting to know what the girl had to say and wanting to do the right thing. Her curiosity soon had her defeated and she sighed. “Fine. Come in, but you mustn’t speak of this to anyone else.”

Temperance made the sign of the cross over her chest. “Cross my heart, hope to die.”

Mrs. Spurling pulled her inside just as Yvette arrived. “Temperance! How are you? Do you want to do my hair again?” the blonde girl inquired, looking excited. “You did such a good job of it for the dinner we had with Lord Rolfe. Oh Mum, can we have Daddy invite him over again? I have a better idea of what to say this time. I’ve been putting lots of thought and prayer into it.”

Temperance clapped a hand over her friend’s mouth. “I think you won’t need to worry about what to say to get his attention too much longer. Come over to the fireplace. You two are going to want to be sitting down before you hear what I have to say,” she excitedly decreed.

Once they were all settled by the fire, Temperance straightened herself up and beamed at Yvette and her mother from ear to ear. “What is it?” Yvette queried most insistently.

“What has happened with Lord Rolfe?” Mrs. Spurling demanded.

Temperance bounced up and down before she answered. “Guess! I dare you to guess!”

“I haven’t a clue,” both mother and daughter said in unison.

“Lord Rolfe is going to take a bride!” Temperance squealed, unable to contain herself any longer. “I just heard myself. He was in the jeweller’s workshop asking for an engagement ring to be made! I honestly did not mean to eavesdrop, but I happened to be passing by a window when I heard Lord Rolfe’s voice. He wouldn’t say who it was for, but I think we can all guess!”

Mother and daughter froze and sat there agape, unable to believe their ears at first. Slowly, they turned to look at each other. “Yvette, love, do you know what this means? Oh, hallelujah!”

“But, Mummy, we don’t know who the ring is for. It could be for that awful girl Grace!” Yvette protested. Her eyes filled with tears and she started to tremble. “Oh, I’ll just die if he proposes to that awful girl after all the terrible things she has said to me. Mummy, what are we going to do?”

Mrs. Spurling had a pensive look on her face. “Actually, love, I might have reason to believe it’s not Grace that he has in mind. Remember what a good mood your father was in the other day? I forgot to mention something to you because I thought nothing of it at the time. After church a few days back, I saw Lord Rolfe pull your father aside and talk to him. I thought they had to be talking about gunsmithing. But, given what’s happened today, I’m starting to think otherwise!”

Yvette blinked in surprise. “You think he was asking Daddy for my hand?”

Mrs. Spurling nodded. “You know how secretive your father can be sometimes.”

Temperance dove into Yvette’s arms and squeezed her around the middle. “Oh, Yvette, you have to let me do your makeup and your hair and be your maid of honor! I can’t believe this is really happening! Oh! Look at me, I’m shaking!” she laughed. “You’re shaking too!”

“I’m nervous! I-I mean, it feels like this is happening too fast. I do really like him, but I’m not sure if I’m really ready to be m-m-married yet!” Yvette stuttered, feeling faint. “I get so scared around boys. I can scarcely imagine being alone with one who isn’t my father!”

“Girls, girls!” Mrs. Spurling protested. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ll not hear speak of wedding plans or, Lord forbid, wedding nights until after Yvette has been presented with the engagement ring. We don’t want to get our hopes up prematurely. That would be folly.” The conversation came to an abrupt halt when a clamor started coming from outside. “Oh, the ships must be leaving now. We must go and bid them farewell on their long voyage. Come, girls.”

…

Having completed all his business in Jamestown for the day, John Rolfe waved goodbye to the men aboard the three ships as they set sail. All of his mail was on its way to England, including a lengthy copy of his travel memoirs, which he hoped would be reproduced and published for everyone back home to read. Hopefully, it would not take too long for him to receive the many items that he had ordered both for himself and for others. As the ships receded from sight, he turned around and headed straight into the woods behind the settlement as he intended to walk to Pocahontas’s village on foot. It was a bright, clear, and temperate early spring day and he figured the exercise would do him good. Before long, he spotted someone through the woods coming in his direction. He waved. The other man raised a hand in greeting as well. When he got close enough, John Rolfe recognized the fellow as William Worthham. The well-dressed newcomer bore what looked like a pickaxe on his shoulder. The diplomat smiled. “Lord Worthham! What a surprise to meet you. What are you doing all the way out here in the wilderness?” Rolfe inquired.

“Looking for gold, of course,” Lord Worthham replied, twirling his pickaxe around in the air. “That’s why I came. You wouldn’t happen to know where it’d be best to look, would you?”

John Rolfe stopped walking when they came face-to-face and frowned. “Oh… I’m sorry, Lord Worthham. None of the settlers have found any gold around here. As far as we know, there’s no gold anywhere in Virginia. I suppose the original settlers might have just selected a bad spot to place the colony for that purpose, but we’re here and most who came want to stay regardless.”

Worthham was taken aback. “You mean to tell me this whole place is a goldless wasteland?”

John Rolfe glanced around at the wilderness. There were animals skittering through the trees, spring flowers bursting into bloom, a herd of deer in the distance, birds chirping up a beautiful song that resonated through the budding forest, and a trickling stream bursting with fish nearby. He chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it a wasteland, my friend. Goldless, perhaps.”

Worthham snorted and threw down his pick. “We were told there would be tons of gold here. Are you telling me we came all this way for nothing? That the Virginia Company lied to us?”

“If it was the Virginia Company who told you there was gold here, then I would say yes, they lied,” John Rolfe replied. “Either that or they were just plain wrong. I know John Ratcliffe, for one, was caught lying about there being gold here because he was at the end of his rope.”

“I don’t believe it!”

John Rolfe shrugged. “Well, who knows? You might get lucky and find gold where everyone else failed. Feel free to keep looking. I don’t think the Powhatans mind in the least as long as you aren’t too destructive in your search. It’s not like one man can do much damage anyway. Well, I have got to be off. I have business to attend to in Werowocomoco. Good luck, my friend.”

Worthham still looked ticked off, but he nodded. “Thank you for your honesty, Lord Rolfe. It’s too bad we didn’t meet you in London. We might not have wasted our time coming here.”

John Rolfe tipped his hat to the other gentleman and continued on his way. As he kept walking onward through the blooming woodland, he eventually came to hear a disturbing sound in the distance. It was off-trail and it almost sounded like an animal crying in distress. The Englishman stopped and listened. Whatever it was sounded very upset or possibly even in pain. He headed in the direction of the noise, leaving an obvious trail to follow back. His first concern was always getting lost in the Virginia wilderness without one of the natives to act as a guide.

The diplomat followed the noise about half a mile eastward off the trail until it led him to an oversized budding bush. He walked around the bush and spotted the squealing creature. A young raccoon, one smaller than Meeko, was caught in a metal cage trap. It could not have belonged to the Powhatans because of the iron that the thing was made out of. The Englishman drew his brows together in concern. They were well into Powhatan territory and, during their negotiations, the chief had made it clear he did not want the settlers to be hunting or trapping animals this close to the village of Werowocomoco. Perhaps someone in Jamestown simply had not gotten the memo. That was no matter. Soon there would to be another town meeting and he could make sure everyone knew the rules at the same time. For now, the diplomat would have to release the animal to prevent any unnecessary tensions between the settlers and natives.

When the raccoon spotted him, it squealed even louder in alarm and cowered in the back of the cage. It appeared to be a female from what John Rolfe could tell. She hid her head and face under her trembling striped tail in fear of the enormous human being standing outside her prison. Rolfe frowned. “It’s alright. I’m not here for your pelt,” he said in a soothing voice. “Now, if I let you out of that cage, I want you to promise not to bite me, alright? I’m just going to unlatch the trapdoor if you’ll let me…” Rolfe uttered, lowering himself to his knees. He carefully scooted closer. His first fear was that she might lash out at him very suddenly and bite or scratch him. As his hands neared the metal bars, they started to shake slightly. The raccoon did not move even an inch. Carefully, he unhinged the springs. The cage door dropped open. He retreated as fast as he could, but the raccoon still did not budge. “Come on, get out of there. You’re free.”

She peeked out from under her tail, but she was still too struck with terror to move a muscle. John Rolfe frowned. He needed her to get out of the cage so he could pick it up and remove it. If the natives found it out here without explanation, they would not be very happy. Not wanting to frighten her any more, John Rolfe reached into his pocket and produced a piece of ham wrapped in a handkerchief that he had brought as a snack. Maybe he could tempt her out of the cage.

He placed the ham just outside the opening to the trap and then ran off and hid behind a tree. From there, he spied on the raccoon to see what she would do. At first, she did not move at all. Then, gradually, Rolfe noticed some movement as her nose awoke to the presence of a delicious scent.  _ That’s right, love. Smell that yummy ham and get out of there, _ he thought to himself.

Her tail jerked off of her face as she sniffed around and then spotted the ham. Casually, she walked over on her four feet and sniffed it before snatching it up in her paws and gobbling it down in a split second. Then she started sniffing around for more. She followed the scent toward the tree that Rolfe was hiding behind. As she approached the tree, John Rolfe stealthily snuck around the other side and jogged over to retrieve the now-empty trap. He took the trap and ran back off in the direction he had come. John Rolfe was relieved to find the trail again. He hid the unset trap in a tree hole, where he hoped to find it on his way back to Jamestown. Then he kept going onward to Werowocomoco. When he arrived at the Pamunkey River, there were several canoes available on the shore. He took one to cross the river to the village on the other side.

There were men on the shore with spears catching fish and others in the water checking on the fishing weirs. Women prepared the catches for smoking and cooking nearby. Pocahontas spotted John Rolfe and ran down to the bank, waving to get his attention. He waved back. “John!” she called as he approached. She helped him pull the canoe into shore so he would not have to step into the cold water to get out. “John, my father is coming. He’ll be here in a minute.”

“Good. I’ve got something to ask you before he gets here, love,” John Rolfe replied, stepping out of the canoe onto dry land. “I talked to the Jamestown jeweller and he thinks it would be wiser to have a silver ring with shell inlaid into it. A ring that’s just made out of shell is liable to break and that’s not something you want in a wedding ring. Do you mind if he does it that way?” the Englishman inquired, straightening himself up after his brief ride in the canoe. “Besides, a pure shell ring would have to be thicker than usual and that might be uncomfortable to wear.”

Pocahontas placed a finger to her lip in thought. “I think that would look good too. As long as it’s not gold. That would contrast too much with my necklace since there’s nothing yellow in it.”

John Rolfe whipped out the measuring tape. “The jeweller gave this to me to measure your ring finger. If you will give me your left hand for just a moment,” the gentleman beseeched, holding it out. Pocahontas presented her hand to him. As he took the measurement, he also said, “The fellow also asked if he could borrow your necklace. He is very good at making matching pieces of jewelry and, if you want a perfect match, it would be a good idea to let him see the necklace.”

Pocahontas nodded. Once John Rolfe had noted the measurement and put away the tape, she reached back and unhooked the necklace from around her neck. She handed it to him. “Guard it with your life,” she warned, giving him a serious look. “And tell him to do the same.”

“Yes, madam,” John Rolfe readily replied, slipping the prized possession into a deep trouser pocket. “I shan’t let a thing happen to it. You have my word. Ah! Here comes your father.”

Pocahontas glanced behind her and spotted the chief approaching from up the hill. They both waved to him as he came down to see them. Two of his personal guards and his medicine man trailed behind him. “Welcome back, my brother,” Chief Powhatan greeted as he neared them. “Today is the day for you two to select a spot to build your future home. Come. I have several different lots to show you, starting right up the bank here,” he indicated, pointing to a vacant area between clusters of huts near the village center circle. “This is one area we have set aside for future growth of the village. It is safe because it’s near the village center and within view of the family longhouse. It is also clear of very tall trees which might fall during storms.”

John Rolfe hopped up to the indicated area and looked around. There were some cultivated fruit trees nearby and the grass was kept well under control. It was also nicely flat and there was room to cultivate gardens. If he built the yehakin close enough to the river, they would also probably have a sufficient amount of privacy in terms of noise. He was a bit concerned about curious little children eavesdropping on him and his wife if they were too close to other houses. When Rolfe peered over his shoulder, he spotted Pocahontas behind him examining the same lot. “Love, there is a decent chance that we’re going to be given livestock as a wedding gift from the settlers. If we build the house right here, then we could build a chicken coop right next to it. We could also fence in that whole area right there for goats and sheep. I don’t think the other villagers will mind as long as we don’t keep a rooster. What do you think?” the diplomat asked her.

Chief Powhatan came over. “What is a rooster?”

“A very annoying animal,” John Rolfe explained.

“Ah,” Powhatan returned. “Yes, please don’t bring any annoying animals to the village.”

John Rolfe chuckled. “Don’t worry. I don’t fancy being awakened before the crack of dawn every single day of my life either. For some reason, the settlers seem immune to such noise.”

Pocahontas giggled. “If we have goats and sheep, we could have milk and butter and wool. It would be wonderful to not have to go to Jamestown to trade for those things,” she remarked.

“Eggs from chickens too,” John Rolfe replied. “And don’t forget all the meat.”

Pocahontas put a finger on her lower lip. “Maybe you won’t have to learn how to hunt after all.”

John Rolfe frowned. “But bad things can happen to livestock. It is wise to have a backup, like the ability to hunt, just in case a fox or wild cat comes after our chickens or goats.”

“You first need to become proficient with the bow before you can go on any hunts,” Powhatan pointed out. “So you will be spending a lot of time at the shooting range. If you want to marry my daughter, I expect you to practice with the bow every single day. I appreciate you being insightful and recognizing that you need to be able to provide for her even if something bad happens to the tame animals you keep. Pocahontas, where is that bow you got from the warrior Siwili during your travels? You said it was more suited to Ulkekahone’s height anyway.”

“It’s under my bed at home. I’ll go get it!” Pocahontas declared, running off through the village.

John Rolfe and Powhatan watched her go. “First, you must become proficient at shooting a still target. As long as you have good form, only experience will improve your accuracy. If you practice at the Jamestown shooting range, you won’t have to come here every day. Now, back to the topic of housing. Take a look at the other yehakins in the village,” Powhatan instructed, turning Rolfe to face the village. “You must decide which way you want your house oriented.”

“I think I’d like it to be parallel to the river,” John Rolfe replied. “Then we can have one door facing the village and one facing the river. And the chicken coup can be on the side closest to the other houses to deter predators. Then there’s all this extra area eastward for other livestock.”

Kekata walked over to the edge of the elevated river bank. “In the second half of the summer, when you plant your autumn harvest, there will be more land right here that will show up once the water levels fall. This would be a good place to plant because it will be very fertile from the water that was covering it in the earlier half of the season and it will be resistant to drought,” the medicine man pointed out. “We don’t know how wet or dry this coming summer will be yet, so it is best to take these things into account if you want a decent harvest. I’d have Pocahontas work the land there as soon as the water level falls, though I’m sure she’ll think of that herself.”

“Yes, that would be a good place to plant your autumn garden,” Chief Powhatan agreed.

John Rolfe walked over to the submerged lower bank. He could see grasses from the previous season under the crystal-clear ice water. “It looks pretty flat too. That’s a great idea.”

“Would you like to look at other vacant lots or are you satisfied with this one?” Powhatan asked.

John Rolfe turned around to face the chief. “I like this location, but we ought to ask Pocahontas what she thinks before we make our final decision. I can’t just decide without her input.”

It was not long before Pocahontas returned with the bow and quiver. “Got it!” she declared as she skipped down the hill to them. She handed both items to John Rolfe. “Now you can practice.”

“Pocahontas,” John Rolfe spoke as he accepted the items, “your father wants us to make a final decision about where to put the house. I like this location right here. What do you think?”

“I think this is the best location. We’re right on the river, there is enough space for gardens and livestock, there’s plenty of privacy for you, and I can still see the family longhouse from here,” Pocahontas returned, looking excited at the prospect of building their future home together.

Chief Powhatan placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “I am also very happy with this location because it is safe from enemy ambushes, clear from trees that might fall during storms, and yet still in view of the family longhouse in case you need us for anything in an emergency. Now,” he said, removing his hand and stepping back to survey the area, “if you want your house close to the riverbank, right here would be good. I wouldn’t suggest placing it any closer to the bluff than five feet or so. That would be right about here.” He used his staff to draw a groove in the dirt, indicating where one wall of the yehakin should be. “If one end of the house starts right here, the other end would be about here,” he explained, walking a length of about twenty feet. “It is only half that in width from side to side.” He used his staff to drag a large oval-shaped groove to indicate where the walls of the yehakin would be located all the way around on every side.

“If that’s where it’s going to be, I know just where I would like the doors,” John Rolfe chimed, picking up a long stick. “Right here facing the water and then one on the opposite side facing the village,” he said, drawing short perpendicular lines to the walls to indicate the location and width of the doors. “So this is to be built out of saplings? I assume one needs to dig holes for the poles to build the foundation so the whole thing won’t be overturned during a great windstorm.”

Pocahontas took Rolfe’s stick and walked to one end of their future house, making little circles in certain areas each about a foot apart. She drew a total of eight. “That is right, John. Eight poles, each a foot apart like this. The ends need to be buried about half a foot to a foot in the ground. I can dig the holes. I know how to do it. Meanwhile, you can be harvesting the saplings. As for the width, we need eighteen saplings on each side lashed together with the stripped bark.”

Chief Powhatan turned to one of his warriors and said something to him in Powhatan. The man rushed off up the hill to carry out the chief’s orders. “I sent him to get some of the iron axes and knives we traded for from Jamestown. You can use them to cut down and strip the saplings for the skeleton. Come, we must go to the thickets so I can show you which saplings to pick.”

After receiving a full set of instructions for the first step of their home-building venture, John Rolfe and Pocahontas spent the rest of the day digging holes for poles and harvesting saplings for the width of the house. By sunset, they had everything laid out, though the saplings had yet to be stripped or lashed together. Both were exhausted from the work. Pocahontas retired to bed and Rolfe, after returning the tools to Powhatan, dragged his wretched self to the bank and slipped into a canoe, intent on walking back to Jamestown despite his fatigue. He paddled across the river, bearing just a lantern, bow, and quiver, and entered the forest as he reached the other side.

As soon as John Rolfe came into the forest, something fairly heavy landed on his shoulder in a manner most unexpected. The Englishman let out a loud yelp as whatever it was started sniffing his ear and face. It was too light to be Meeko. Rolfe had almost dropped his lamp, but he held it up to see what the thing was. “You!” he cried, coming face-to-face with the same female raccoon he had released earlier that day. “I thought you were afraid of me. Whatever happened to your timidity, little miss?” he remarked, offering her the back of his hand to sniff. She did so and he started to stroke her under the chin. The raccoon took a minute to enjoy the affection and then kept sniffing around. She climbed all over Rolfe’s body in search of something. “You want more ham, don’t you?” he uttered, noticing how skinny the poor little creature was from the very lean winter they had all suffered. “If you want more, you’ll have to come to Jamestown with me.”

John Rolfe continued on his way, bearing the lady raccoon on his shoulder. She did not seem at all interested in parting ways with him right then. He stopped to pick up the iron cage trap which had captured the poor animal earlier that day and walked all the way back to Jamestown. Once he was back inside the fortress, the raccoon crawled down into his shirt to hide from the other humans. She made him laugh as her paws tickled his flesh. The few settlers who were out and about at that hour gave him an odd look. Ignoring them, he proceeded back to the inn. It was there that he presented the raccoon with ham, hardtack, apples, and day-old bread from the inn lobby. Then he opened his window. “Alright, you’ve been fed. You can go home now, little one,” he said. When he gazed back, he saw that the raccoon had passed out in front of the fireplace after her binge. It was probably more than she had had to eat in weeks, he figured. He put on his nightshirt and crawled into bed, resolving to release the animal instead the next morning.


	13. Guiding Spirits

******APRIL 12, 1614**

John Rolfe woke up at dawn the next morning determined to continue the work on his and Pocahontas’s future home. As he got dressed, the raccoon that he had brought to his room roused and jumped up onto his shoulder. He nearly jumped out of his breeches in fright, having totally forgotten she was there. The Englishman gave her a scolding look that was only half serious and then he laughed. “You silly thing. I suppose you want breakfast too. I’ll order us some,” he said, ringing the bell for room service. A minute later, Mrs. Breckinridge popped her head in.

The older woman squealed at the sight of the raccoon. “Th-that’s not Meeko!”

John Rolfe flushed. “I-I know, yes. This is my new little friend. Sorry to surprise you, Mrs. Breckinridge, but can we get some breakfast? I’ve got quite a lot of work to do today, so I had better eat well this morning in order to do it,” he expressed, stroking the raccoon.

Mrs. Breckinridge placed a finger upon her bottom lip. “I’d be happy to make you something in the kitchen, Lord Rolfe. But what is your new little friend’s name?” she inquired.

“Name?” John Rolfe repeated, glancing at the raccoon on his shoulder. Something about her reminded him of his favorite sister Anna while he was growing up. It might have been the shape of her face or the warmth of her personality. “Anna,” he replied. “Her name is Anna.”

“Oh, that’s lovely! I’ll go get you and Anna some breakfast. What would you like this morning?”

“Eggs, cheese, buttered toast, ham, and sausages if you please,” John Rolfe said. “I’m hungry.”

Mrs. Breckinridge nodded. “Yes, sir,” she declared before disappearing to go fill the order.

When she was gone, John Rolfe flopped back down on his bed and stretched out. His muscles were still sore from all the work he had done in chopping down saplings the previous day. It had been even more laborious than he had expected, but that was alright with him. He was well on his way to having a place to call home in the New World. Once the house was put together, he would not have to stay at the inn anymore. That would make the room he occupied available to others. Construction was set to begin on many houses in Jamestown very soon. Fortunately, it was not John Rolfe’s job to oversee any of that. He had his own future home to worry about.

Anna hopped onto John Rolfe’s stomach and sat down to lick herself for a moment before turning her attention to Rolfe. She stared at him and he stared back at her. “You creatures are very cat-like, you know that?” the diplomat remarked. Anna trilled in response. “Precisely.”

When breakfast arrived, both John Rolfe and Anna gorged themselves. When Rolfe was done, as per his usual habit, he meticulously cleaned his teeth and shaved his face. Then he collected his bow and quiver, picked up the bloated raccoon, and headed outside to go to Carter Daugherty’s house. When he knocked on the door, it seemed the man was an early riser as he was already up and busy at work. Rolfe dropped off Pocahontas’s necklace, her measurement, and the new set of instructions for the making of the rings before heading off into the woodland. It was a bright, beautiful, and slightly brisk day, so he wore his cloak as he trod through the forest with Anna on his shoulder. By the time he reached Werowocomoco, the villagers were only just starting to rise. Anna ran off into the woods to play as Rolfe loaded himself into a canoe to cross the river.

The moment he reached the lot he had selected with Pocahontas and Powhatan, he gasped at the sight. The saplings that he had cut for the frame were gone, the grooves Chief Powhatan made with his staff had been erased, and the holes that Pocahontas dug for the poles had been filled in. He raised a brow.  _ Hm, perhaps Pocahontas and her father decided to change the location, _ he thought to himself.  _ Well, that’s no big deal. I’ll go ask them where they moved it to.  _ He walked up the hill to the Powhatan family longhouse and knocked on the door to the chief’s personal abode. “Pocahontas? Are you in?” he asked, hoping that he was not waking anybody up.

A few moments later, a sleepy princess poked her head out. “John, you’re early,” Pocahontas mumbled, stretching her back. “Give me a minute and I’ll get ready,” she beseeched.

“Wait!” John Rolfe declared, causing her to freeze.

Pocahontas blinked in surprise. “What is it?”

“Where did you and your father decide to move the house to and why? I’m just curious because I thought we had all agreed to the location. I’m not mad about it or anything,” Rolfe blurted.

Pocahontas raised a brow. “What are you talking about?”

“The house, our future home. Didn’t you and your father move it?” John Rolfe asked.

Pocahontas appeared totally confused. “No, of course not. We didn’t move it at all.”

“But it’s gone. Where did it go?” Rolfe inquired. “All that work we did, I can’t find it.”

Pocahontas stared at him with a blank look for an extended moment. Then she came outside and peered down the hill at the lot they had selected together, using her hand as a sun visor.  _ “What in the…?” _ she uttered. “Where did all the saplings go? They were there when I went to bed.”

The diplomat was completely befuddled. “I have no idea.”

Chief Powhatan poked his head out of the door as well. He looked like he had been awake for longer, but he was not wearing any feathers in his hair as of yet. “What is going on?”

“Father, all the work we did yesterday is gone. It looks like someone or something stole all of our saplings,” Pocahontas replied, turning her attention to Chief Powhatan.

John Rolfe pointed downhill. “It’s not just the saplings, sir. The grooves you made were erased and all the holes that Pocahontas dug were filled in. I had thought maybe you and Pocahontas had decided to change the location of the house. Do you know where the saplings are?”

Chief Powhatan knitted his brows and came outside. He looked down the hill with shock on his face. “I did not order anything moved. It must be a prank of some kind. I am sorry. If I find out who did it, they will be punished. Then again, it had to have been some child.”

John Rolfe frowned worriedly. “But what if this happens again? What if we spend half the day redoing everything we did yesterday and it all disappears again? It’ll take forever to get a house built at this rate! Whatever miscreant is responsible probably did this under the veil of darkness.”

Chief Powhatan scowled in anger. “I will post a guard to keep watch from now on. Whoever did this had to know they were defying my wishes and that is not something I am or have ever been willing to tolerate. You have my word, this will not happen again,” Powhatan returned.

John Rolfe was encouraged by the chief’s promise. “Oh, thank you. Well, in that case, I guess I’ll go get started on the construction… again,” he decided, appearing marginally happier.

“I’ll be along to help in a minute, John!” Pocahontas said, heading back inside to brush her hair.

John Rolfe smiled. “Alright, love. I’ll go get the whole thing outlined again.”

“I’ll bring the tools,” Pocahontas replied just before she disappeared inside her house.

While Pocahontas was getting ready, John Rolfe returned to their lot and used a long stick to redraw the wall boundaries of their home in the dirt, doing his best to remember where the lines had been before. The soft areas that were filled-in holes helped him remember. Pocahontas was on the way down the hill when she spotted the Englishman on his knees using a small stick to dig out the holes again. When she reached him, she took out a shovel and handed him an ax. “Let me take care of the holes, John. You need to go get some more saplings,” she ordained.

John Rolfe accepted the ax and stood up on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. “Pocahontas, who do you think might’ve done this? I can’t help but feel like this was more than a minor prank. Honestly, I rather feel like someone is trying to tell me that I’m not welcome here.”

Pocahontas knitted her brows. “My father is the one to decide who is and is not welcome here. It was probably just a bratty child who needs a good talking to. I am sure it wasn’t malicious,” she replied, trying to convince herself as well. The destruction of their work from the previous day was quite troubling even to her, not to mention a pain. They had both busted their backs getting all those saplings chopped down, hauled over, and put in place to be stripped and lashed together.

John Rolfe sighed. “Alright. Well, I guess we shouldn’t worry too much since your father intends to keep this area under guard until we’ve completed our work. I still think it’s just so bizarre that someone had the nerve to do what they did. I also find it disturbing that someone seemed to be defying your father by the act. Are there any political tensions amongst the villagers that I should know of?” he inquired, spinning the head of the ax around casually in his hands as he spoke.

“Not that I am aware of,” Pocahontas replied, looking worried. “As far as I know, the council agreed to our union. It was not a unilateral decision from my father. He is wise enough to do the responsible thing and consult all our leaders before allowing a new ally to marry into the tribe.”

John Rolfe rubbed his chin. “As you know, I met the council to take the oath and they were all quite friendly as I recall,” he said with another sigh. “I suppose you are right. It must have just been an unusually bold prank. Maybe it wasn’t intended to be malicious at all. Sorry to make you worry. I’ll go get to work now,” he decided, turning to head to the thickets in the woods behind the Powhatan family longhouse. When he got there, he got to work chopping and hacking away at the base of saplings that were just the right length and thickness for the yehakin.

After Pocahontas had re-dug all the holes, she stood up and glanced around with suspicion before taking another ax and heading off into the woods to help John Rolfe. As she climbed the hill, she glanced back at the lot and narrowed her eyes. No one was there. She decided to watch the place like a hawk as often as she could. Part of her desperately wanted to find out who was responsible for the mischief because Rolfe’s statement had caused her to worry about the village as a whole.

She found Rolfe at the thickets. He already had two saplings down and in a small pile. After greeting him, she got to work as well hacking away at the base of saplings. “It’s too bad we have to do this again,” John Rolfe remarked. “I hate having to cut down more trees than necessary.”

“Me too,” Pocahontas replied.

A little while later, as they were returning to their lot with five saplings each dragging along behind them, they both spotted a man down the hill standing near their future home’s location and looking at it. Pocahontas gasped and dropped her bundle of saplings, running toward him. “Pocahontas, wait!” John Rolfe called after her, dropping his bundle as well in surprise.

When Pocahontas arrived, she gasped again. “Keme!” she cried in shock, running into his arms.

Keme readily accepted the hug, bearing most of his weight on his good leg. His bad leg was wrapped up in heavy bandages and he had two wooden crutches, one under each arm, to help him support himself while he was healing. “Pocahontas, how are you? Kekata says I am well enough to go outside now. Father gave me the easy duty of guarding this place. He mentioned something about a prank. What exactly happened here?” the warrior inquired.

Pocahontas chuckled. “You had me worried for a second that you might be the prankster!” she teased. “John and I put a lot of work into building our home yesterday and someone came along and destroyed all of it. It was a very mean thing to do and we have no idea who did it.”

Keme raised a brow as she pulled back from him. “Well, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

John Rolfe caught up to them, dragging along both heavy bundles. “Keme? I’m glad to see that you’re doing better,” the diplomat greeted, dropping the saplings near the site for their house.

The recovering warrior waved to him. “Ulkekahone, I never got a chance to thank you for what you did,” he said, beckoning John Rolfe to come over. “You saved my life and all our lives.” He offered a handshake when Rolfe approached, which the gentleman immediately accepted.

“Well, your sister has saved my life several times as well, so I think we’re even,” Rolfe replied.

“So you are going to be one of my brothers-in-law? For a while there, I thought that Pocahontas might decide never to tie the knot with anyone,” remarked the warrior, giving his sister a teasing look. “I just want you to know that you have my blessing to marry her. Thank you.”

John Rolfe smiled. “I appreciate that.”

“John,” Pocahontas began, “Keme is going to be guarding our lot today to prevent anyone from tampering with it while we’re out collecting supplies. I’m so happy he’s finally well enough to be out and about.” An idea suddenly occurred to Pocahontas and her eyes brightened immensely. “Hey, why don’t you go collect some more saplings? I need to talk to Keme in private for a bit. Go ahead, John. I’ll catch up with you,” she said, shooing the British gentleman away.

“Sure, I will. But if Keme is going to be guarding our lot, I think it would be good for him to have a place to sit,” John Rolfe proposed. “Would you like me to get you a log to rest on?”

The warrior appeared hesitant. “I don’t know. It’s against the rules to sit while guarding. And Kekata says I need to spend time on my feet to re-strengthen the muscles. I lost a lot of tone.”

“You don’t have to sit the whole time, only when you’re tired. You ought to have the option at least. Pocahontas, you should go to your father and ask him permission. I am sure your brother will be much more comfortable this way while he’s attending his duty,” Rolfe expressed.

“Yes, yes, John,” Pocahontas returned, “I’ll take care of that. Now, shoo.”

The diplomat snorted in amusement at her abruptness, turned around, and left to go collect more saplings. “Maybe I can help by stripping the saplings you bring in,” Keme suggested. “It would be nice to have something to do with my hands. Could you fetch me a knife, Pocahontas?”

“Yes, sure,” Pocahontas replied. “But I have something that I want to ask you first.”

The warrior blinked in surprise. “Alright, what is it?”

Pocahontas nipped her bottom lip, not sure how to make the request. “Well, I-I need a favor from a warrior who is friendly and not overly critical. I’m surprised I didn’t think of it before, but I think you would be the perfect candidate. John wants to learn how to live among us, but I cannot teach him all the skills he needs to know. Would you mind teaching him the arts of hunting and tracking when you get a chance? Nakoma is worried that Chogan and John might clash too much and I can’t really think of any other warrior who might be open-minded enough to do this.”

“I’ll help in whatever way I can, but I doubt I’m going to be able to go on any hunts within the next several months at least. This leg is taking its time to heal. It is still quite painful if I move it the wrong way,” Keme expressed. “But there are some things that don’t require much movement which I can definitely teach him. Does he at least know how to shoot a bow?”

“Yes, but he’s not accurate yet.”

Keme nodded. “Then I can help him improve his accuracy. How is he with a fire-stick?”

“Very accurate, but he’s not good at being quiet. He needs to learn stealth as well. I’m good at being stealthy, but I’m not good at teaching it. It just comes too naturally to me.”

“Alright. Well, I’m on board. But, like I said, it might be a while before I can do anything that requires much movement with him. I will just need you and him to be patient,” Keme said.

Pocahontas giggled. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Anyway, I’ll go ask Father to let you sit. I’ll get you a log to rest on too and bring the saplings and a pot of water to soak the bark in.” She then left to find Chief Powhatan in the Powhatan family longhouse up the hill.

…

Later that day, Chief Powhatan called a village meeting to denounce the miscreant or miscreants responsible for tampering with his daughter’s future home. He beseeched the villagers to keep an eye out for mischief and report immediately to him if they were to witness anything. Nobody came forward to admit they had done it, so he concluded the meeting and everybody dispersed.

It was afternoon when Pocahontas and John Rolfe finally got things back to how they had been the night before. All the necessary saplings had been cut down and brought to the site and Keme was in the process of stripping some of them. They all halted the work they were doing to have lunch, which Pocahontas brought over from the longhouse. She brought sitting mats as well and they all ate right on the construction site. Due to his injury, Keme needed to sit on a log. It was too painful to sit on the ground, as it put pressure on his thigh. As they ate, he explained how to correctly strip the tree saplings to get segments of green bark long enough to use as twine to lash the saplings together. They spent the rest of the afternoon together lashing the saplings on one side of the house to the adjacent saplings on the other side of the house. Then they carved the ends to sharp points and stuck the poles in the holes that had been prepared for them. Thus, they had completed a third of the work on the frame of the house by the end of the day.

John Rolfe was exhausted, but he was determined to see to it that Chief Powhatan knew he was serious about his desire to provide for Pocahontas as her husband. He took his bow and quiver that evening and went to the shooting range on the far side of the village behind the communal longhouse. It was deserted at that time, except for Pocahontas who had tagged along. With shaky hands and arms, he lifted up his bow, nocked an arrow, and shot at one of the targets tied to the forest trees. The arrow did not even hit the tree. It got lost somewhere in the forest thickets and he and Pocahontas were forced to spend ten minutes searching for it. After that, he took a rest and allowed his nerves to stabilize. After getting a drink from the river, he came back and started practicing again. He shot one arrow into the root of the tree bearing the target. “This is amazingly difficult,” the diplomat remarked, nocking another arrow from his quiver.

“You need a wider stance,” came the voice of the chief.

John Rolfe jolted in surprise at the unexpected arrival, causing him to lose his grip on the arch of the bow. The arrow and string both snapped back and popped him right in the face. He grunted in pain, holding a hand to his nose and lip. “John, are you okay?” Pocahontas cried, running over.

_ “Mm-hmm,” _ he lied, not wanting to further embarrass himself in front of the others.

Powhatan walked up and stood beside John Rolfe, keeping his eyes on the target. He extended a bulky arm toward the target with the palm of his broad hand perpendicular to the ground. “You also need to turn your elbow outward or the string is going to keep hitting it. That will easily throw off your aim.” John Rolfe rubbed the sting out of his face before correcting his posture accordingly. “Stand back,” Chief Powhatan instructed, pushing him back slightly. He took two arrows out of his quiver and placed them crossways on the ground. “Put your left foot here and your right foot there,” he decreed, using the ends of the arrows as guides for foot placement. Rolfe did as he was told and cooperated as the chief corrected his foot orientation. “Now, keep your back straight and take aim,” Powhatan finished, rising to his feet again.

The Englishman straightened up and took aim. “Am I still doing this right?”

“The string of the bow should be pressed against the center of your nose,” the chief added. John Rolfe made the necessary correction. “Okay, now you can shoot,” Powhatan said.

John Rolfe unleashed the arrow and hit the target. Though it was not in the bull’s-eye, it was the closest he had ever come. “Oh, wow,” Rolfe remarked. “That does make a difference.”

Chief Powhatan clapped him on the back lightly, causing him to jump in surprise. “Yes, keep doing it like that. If you have any problems, I will be at home. And you can also ask a warrior. Granted, not all of them are as good at shooting as they should be,” Powhatan admitted.

“Keme would be a good choice,” Pocahontas chimed. “Last I saw, he was near the totem circle.”

“Yes, my son is a very good shooter. Anyway, I must be off. I have business to attend to.”

Pocahontas and John Rolfe waved goodbye as the chief retreated. “I take it that your father is an exceptional hunter,” the gentleman remarked as soon as the older man was out of sight.

Pocahontas nodded. “He was, but he’s too busy to hunt these days for the most part.”

“Well, he certainly still seems to have the skill and instinct,” John Rolfe replied, nocking another arrow as he prepared to take another shot. He checked his footwork first before pulling the string.

“John, I’m going to go help the other women cook the food for this evening. You won’t be too lonely out here by yourself, will you?” Pocahontas inquired, giving him a hug around the middle.

“Course not. I’ll come find you when the drums start.”

She kissed him on the lips and then retreated from the scene. He was about ten minutes into solo practice when a group of hunters came along bearing animal carcasses on their backs. They noticed what he was doing. Rather than minding their own business and leaving to go about their own duties, they decided that watching a white man attempt to shoot a bow would be a much more entertaining enterprise. They gathered around him, which immediately made him nervous. “Um, h-hello?” he uttered, relaxing his stance as he noticed their presence and proximity.

“Shoot your arrow,” one of them said.

John Rolfe flushed slightly. “A-actually, I was just finishing up. I don’t think I’ll need any more tips for today,” he replied, reaching to slip his arrow back in the almost-empty quiver.

One man grabbed the arrow and thrust it back in his grip. “Shoot your arrow, paleface!”

A bead of sweat formed on John Rolfe’s forehead. “Okay, I s-suppose I could do one more.” He moved his feet back into position and nocked the arrow. Breathing out a sigh, he took careful aim. But just as he unleashed the shot, one of the men used the end of his own bow to buckle one of the diplomat’s knees from behind. Rolfe yelped loudly as the arrow shot up into the tree, lodging somewhere in the foliage. The men behind him all burst into laughter. Rolfe’s face went crimson. “Hey!” he protested. “I’ve only got so many arrows! What did you do that for?”

One of them clapped him hard on the back. “Keep it up and one day you might be able to hit a sitting duck,” he jested. They turned and headed off through the village, laughing along the way.

John Rolfe pouted.  _ Now, what in the world was that all about? _ he wondered to himself. Rolfe looked up into the tree, unsure where his arrow had gone. He shrugged, figuring he could get Meeko or Anna to look for it later. He put away the arrows Chief Powhatan had used to guide his feet and then he approached the target, retrieving all of the arrows that he had shot into it and the tree trunk it was attached to. He filled his quiver up again, unstrung his bow, and trod off through the village to go find Pocahontas, Nakoma, or some other friendly person to talk to.

On his way to the totem circle, he passed by a different warrior who bumped into him quite hard. Though the man was no taller than him, he was comparatively a mountain of muscle and John Rolfe stumbled back from the impact, almost losing his balance. “Watch where you are going, paleface!” the man charged in a moody tone. Rolfe shrunk away from him. The warrior glared at Rolfe, snorted in his direction, and then continued on his way to his own yehakin.

John Rolfe frowned, feeling he had been knocked off balance in more ways than one. He finally started to understand Pocahontas’s point about him needing to eat more and gain weight. Some of the warriors were intimidating enough without him appearing scrawny by comparison. Rolfe rubbed the back of his neck, peered around worriedly, and then raced off to find his friends.

…

After dark had fallen, John Rolfe had once again gorged himself at Pocahontas’s request. He sat on a cushion, his stomach so full that he found it uncomfortable to move at all. More of the village children had come over to him out of curiosity, having gradually conquered their fear of the pale stranger. He had them sitting in a little circle with him and Pocahontas as he told them the story of the Three Little Pigs, using his lady friend as a translator. He was almost to the end when he heard the chief calling his Powhatan name. When Rolfe looked up, Powhatan was beckoning him over with a full arm motion. The Englishman blinked in curiosity before turning his attention to Pocahontas. “Tell them I’ll be back when I can,” he indicated, giving two of the children a pat on the head. Then he rose sluggishly to his feet, still stuffed from dinner, and trod over to Powhatan’s social circle which consisted primarily of the village elders. “Yes, sir?”

Chief Powhatan patted a vacant cushion next to him. “Sit, Ulkekahone. Pocahontas mentioned to me earlier that you had something important you wanted to talk to me about. Now is the time.”

John Rolfe blinked in confusion. “I do? I can’t remember what it is though.”

“She said it had something to do with why your people came to our lands in the first place.”

Rolfe’s eyes popped open. “Oh! Yes, yes, yes. Sorry, I had meant to bring it up myself, but I suppose I got sidetracked,” he replied, taking his place by the chief’s side. All of the elders had their eyes upon him, curious as to what he was going to say. “I was thinking of the long-term survival of both our peoples when I brought this up with Pocahontas. It was because she had pointed out to me that the land would be destroyed if too many people were to come here.”

Chief Powhatan nodded. “Yes. Go on.”

“I suppose you might wonder why the English and others from Europe consider gold so valuable, even though it appears to have no practical use,” John Rolfe began, trying to keep his thoughts as organized as possible to avoid causing confusion. He had a lot of European history to explain to a group of people who had no previous knowledge or experience of it whatsoever.

“That is something I have been wondering for a very long time. You’re practically a mind-reader, young man,” Kekata jested, taking another bite out of a tender venison dumpling.

John Rolfe grinned lightly. “Yes, well, I try my best. Understanding the value of gold is central to understanding the reasons for our presence. And if you understand the reasons for our presence, I think you’ll find that negotiations between our peoples will go much smoother in the future. Am I making sense so far? This could get quite confusing so I must be sure I’m explaining properly.”

“Yes, you’re doing fine,” Chief Powhatan replied.

John Rolfe wiped his forehead with a sleeve. “Good. Well, simply put, gold is the life-blood of all European affairs because it grants access to resources. It’s a medium for standardizing trade because trade can get very complicated in a complex society. Most of the people currently living in Jamestown are here because they were literally starving in Europe. It’s bizarre because, in a place like London, you’ll easily find people who are starving right in the middle of a market place that’s full of food. Just like you can find people dying of curable diseases in a place that’s full of medicine men. It seems like a complete contradiction, I realize,” Rolfe explained.

“How can people starve when they are surrounded by food?” Kekata inquired, raising a brow.

John Rolfe frowned. “Because they have no gold to trade for it, they are not allowed to eat it. It’s the law. To take food without paying for it is considered stealing. I’ve seen starving young boys whipped for stealing bread in London. You’d think one would understand their desperation, but no. For most people in Europe, not having gold simply means death or destitution.”

Powhatan raised an eyebrow too. “Does your pale chief not make sure his people are fed? In autumn, I travel through the villages collecting tribute to share with those who had bad harvests or otherwise don’t have enough food and supplies for the winter. Such is the chief’s duty.”

“I’m not sure that doing that is one of my king’s top priorities. Even if it is or was, it might be near impossible to do with the sheer number of people who inhabit his land,” Rolfe returned. “I don’t presume to know what is in James’s heart, but in general I think he means well for our people. However, our society is never at peace for long because we have some mighty enemies who make it very difficult for my king to focus on the wellbeing of the common folk.”

“Ah, now that I understand,” Powhatan returned. “Enemies have always been a much bigger threat to us than drought or other natural phenomena alone. It is rare for the infertility of the land itself to spell a tribe’s doom. Usually, that comes only at the hands of other hostile tribes.”

John Rolfe was not long into his speech when a large group of warriors approached the chief with very stern expressions upon their faces. “Great Powhatan,” Naganwaya said, interrupting Rolfe in mid-sentence, “myself and the other warriors of the village have something important to talk to you about. It is something that cannot wait. May I have permission to speak?”

Chief Powhatan knitted his brows. “Ulkekahone and I are having an important conversation. I do not appreciate this interruption, Naganwaya,” the chief scolded, looking irritated.

John Rolfe’s face reddened slightly. “Actually, Chief Powhatan, this discussion we’re having is going to take quite a while. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for them to interject.”

Powhatan nodded. “Very well,” he conceded, turning to the warriors. “What is this about?

“This paleface,” Naganwaya began, pointing straight to John Rolfe, “is not qualified to marry any of our women. He has not been huskanawed and that makes him a child by our calculations. It is not fair to the rest of us who have worked so hard to become brave warriors and hunters, all to gain the rights of manhood and access to women. We think that you should either reconsider your acceptance of his marriage proposal or delay the wedding and have him huskanawed with the other boys later this spring. And this is not about my competing proposal to Pocahontas either. As you can see, I am not alone in having these sentiments,” the man added, gesturing to the many young warriors who accompanied him. “We really do not understand why the council was so quick to accept him on the basis of a simple vow. If vows were all it took to become men in our society, our sons would gain the rights of manhood as soon as they learned how to talk.”

Pocahontas overheard what the men said and knitted her brows in anger. Jumping to her feet, she trod over to them with the intention of chewing them out in front of everyone. But her father spoke first, instructing her to remain quiet with a hand motion. “Naganwaya, this man has passed into manhood by the rites of his own people. Just because he has not been huskanawed does not make him a child. We don’t require members of foreign tribes to huskanaw before intermarrying with them. Therefore, it would be unfair to expect such from Ulkekahone,” he explained.

“Members of foreign tribes universally have their own rigorous rites of manhood,” another warrior objected. “Look at this man. He is not strong. I bet any warrior in this tribe could beat him in a wrestling match, including Keme despite his current bodily condition.”

John Rolfe lowered his brows and jumped to his feet. “Are you suggesting that English rites of adulthood are too easy? You know nothing of the rigorous schooling I went through!”

Pocahontas was just as angry as Rolfe, if not more so. She stomped a foot on the ground. “I already told you all that John lost weight on our journey  _ and _ this past winter. It was a long hard journey and there were many nights when we went hungry. He looked much stronger after we escaped the pirate ship. But that does not matter because he will regain the weight he lost very soon. I will make sure of it. So why don’t you all buzz off and mind your own business?!”

“Pocahontas, Ulkekahone, calm down,” Powhatan decreed, gesturing for Rolfe to sit down. “I’m not about to withdraw my consent to your marriage or even delay it because of such objections, so there is no need for either of you to get upset. But I am obligated to hear these men out.”

Achachak stepped forward. “Great Chief, I admit that I had actually begun to trust this man before I found out the true reason for why he has been so nice to our people. There is nothing pure about his intentions. Can’t you see that? He wants our women. I know you want to indulge Pocahontas’s fancies, but we beg you to take our objections seriously. Why does Pocahontas have such strong feelings for a man who cannot even provide her with hunted meat? He has clearly bewitched her somehow! These white men have powerful weapons. How do you think they got them? They must’ve called upon the favor of the wicked gods!” he charged.

John Rolfe sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes going wild with anger. “Are you calling me a filthy womanizer and my people  _ devil-worshippers _ ?” he charged back, barely containing his rage.

Achachak snorted. “If that’s what you like to call it.”

Chief Powhatan slapped a hand to his forehead and drew it down the length of his face, unable to stop his eyes from rolling back in aggravation. The discussion was out of control. “Achachak, if you do not take back that accusation, I’ll have you huskanawed again with the boys this spring!”

The warrior jerked back, cowed by the threat. Naganwaya rubbed his arm and sighed. “Please, Great Chief. Forgive him. Achachak is just upset. Even I think he went too far with that remark. The point we’re trying to make is that this man cannot help defend the village in the event of an attack, not to the degree that one of us can. He needs intensive training,” Naganwaya expressed.

“Naganwaya, if you want to help this man learn new skills, be my guest. That’s one of the things I encouraged the village to do when I announced the engagement. But that doesn’t mean this man needs to go through the full rites of huskanaw before he can even marry. Am I clear?”

The warriors all paused and exchanged glances with each other. “So… you’re saying that we can train him?” Achachak inquired for clarification, receiving a quick nod from the chief.

Pocahontas raised a brow. “I guess that’s a fair compromise…”

“I would absolutely welcome your assistance,” John Rolfe returned. “But please, do not call me or any of my people devil-worshippers ever again. That’s the greatest insult imaginable where I come from and, frankly, I do not think that I have done anything to deserve it.”

The warriors exchanged glances again and then several of them grinned lightly at each other. Achachak chuckled. When they left, they walked past John Rolfe. As Naganwaya went by, he yanked off Rolfe’s broad-rimmed hat, mussed up his hair, and shoved his hat back on such that it got stuck over his eyes. “Be careful what you ask for, paleface,” he ominously jested as Rolfe tried to pry his hat off so he could straighten out his auburn locks. “You just might get it.”

Rolfe yanked his hat off and glared at them as they retreated. Then he frowned. “What in the world is that supposed to mean…?” he murmured, using his fingers to try and fix his hair.

Pocahontas simpered in response. “Uh… I’m not sure. But maybe it’s not as bad as we are all thinking?” she lightly suggested, unsure what to make of the strange gesture and comment.

“Do not mind them,” Powhatan beseeched. “They’re jealous and they don’t hide it well. Listen, Ulkekahone, now that they brought up the topic of your marriage again, there is something else I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Has Pocahontas explained bride-wealth to you?”

John Rolfe’s frown turned upside-down. “Yes, sir. She has. I realize we have yet to talk about what mine should be for Pocahontas, but I’m ready for that conversation now if you’d like.”

They spent the rest of the evening negotiating bride-price, settling on one hundred matchlock muskets with ammo, a portable cannon, a variety of iron tools, and a chest of copper. It was expensive, but Rolfe had the means to afford it and he was willing to in exchange for spending the rest of his life with the woman of his dreams. After concluding the negotiations, Chief Powhatan did Rolfe the favor of having a few women accompany him home in a canoe because he was very tired from the day’s activities. But, before he left, Pocahontas made him agree to meet her at the Enchanted Glade the following day for lunch. She would bring the food herself.

**APRIL 13, 1614**

The next morning, after the church service, John Rolfe and Edward Wingfield called a town hall meeting to discuss a variety of community issues in Jamestown. After the most important pieces of business had been concluded by the governor, Rolfe pulled out the animal trap that he had found in the woods. “I need to know who this belongs to. Somebody set this trap encroaching on Powhatan territory and that goes against the terms of our peace treaty. I realize some people may not have been aware of that new rule, so the owner of the trap is not in any legal trouble. We simply wish to make him aware of the law. If this trap belongs to you, please come to me after the meeting to claim it. I’ll be at the inn until lunchtime. Thank you so much for your attention, ladies and gents. You may now go on about your day. You are dismissed,” Rolfe concluded.

The crowd started to disperse and John Rolfe took the trap and headed back to the inn. William Worthham caught up to him. “Lord Rolfe, that belongs to me. I was not aware of the law,” the man said, removing his hat. “But I’ve noticed that there is far more game deeper into the forest. There don’t seem to be many animals close to Jamestown. What do you propose that I do?”

“What are you trying to catch?” John Rolfe inquired, handing the trap over to its owner.

William accepted it. “Anything with a valuable pelt. My family came here looking for wealth.”

John Rolfe scratched his chin. “If you cross the James River and go deep into the forest, there should be lots of mink and beaver. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. It might just be worth checking out. Might I ask what you do with the rest of the animal when you collect the pelt?”

William Worthham raised a brow. “What does that matter?”

“Just curious. Do you bring it home to eat?”

Worthham appeared disgusted. “No, I leave it behind. I only eat civilized meat.”

“Lord Worthham, that is wasteful. I’m going to have to ask you to bring the whole animal home and give the carcass to a family here if you aren’t going to eat it yourself. Either that or you can give it to the Powhatans. I’m sure they’d be grateful,” John Rolfe expressed. He tipped his hat to Worthham. “Good day, sir. I must be off as I have many other duties to attend to.”

John Rolfe peered up into the sky. It was late morning and he figured he might as well head out if he was to make it to the Enchanted Glade on time to meet Pocahontas for lunch. The truth was he needed his own canoe. It would be much easier for him to get around using the waterways rather than walking everywhere, but he was too busy with everything else he was doing to begin making his own dugout. He turned and left William Worthham standing there, the latter looking completely perplexed, and then headed back to the inn to get his things together.

Once he was ready, he left the settlement for the woodlands. The first face he encountered was that of Anna the raccoon. She was looking particularly hungry, so John Rolfe gave her a scratch behind the ears. “Don’t worry, little lady. I asked Pocahontas to pack extra,” he told her.

Anna rode on John Rolfe’s shoulder until they reached the Enchanted Glade. When he got there, he realized that he was a little bit early because Pocahontas had not arrived yet. He decided to have a look around since Pocahontas had not allowed him to do so the last time he was here. The place was bursting with wildlife, so he decided to tread lightly to avoid frightening any of them. He walked through some of the smaller trees in the glade and then approached the vast willow tree with long hanging branches. John Rolfe took one of the branches in hand and examined the flower buds, which looked just about ready to burst into bloom. He could scarcely wait to see the great plant in all its spring glory. It would be absolutely magnificent, he thought.

The Englishman walked down the riverbank away from the tree so that he could get a full view of it. Then he lowered himself into a cross-legged sitting position on the grass and pulled out a pad of parchment and a piece of charcoal. He got to work making a few rough sketches of the area, with the willow front and center. It was about half an hour before he heard Pocahontas’s voice calling to him from the water. “John, what are you doing?” she inquired.

John Rolfe smiled as she paddled in his direction. “Drawing,” he replied, putting the paper away. “I don’t want to miss the chance to make a painting of this area when the trees are in full bloom.”

“Do you have paint?” Pocahontas asked, using her oar to push the canoe up onshore. Meeko and Percy hopped out of the canoe and started sniffing around, Flit following his raccoon friend.

John Rolfe nodded, rising to his feet. He came over and helped her step out of the canoe. “Well, rather, Wiggins does. He said I could borrow some. He’s got fine brushes and canvas too.”

“Wiggins got his paint from us. We can supply you as well if he doesn’t have enough.”

John Rolfe blinked in surprise. “But he had such a beautiful array of colors. Do you mean to say he got it all from your tribe?” the diplomat inquired, feeling more than a little impressed.

Pocahontas nodded, bending to retrieve the picnic basket from the canoe. “He’s quite an artist.”

“Indeed, he is. He has a lovely painting of his mother up in the lobby of the inn.”

John Rolfe took the basket from her and they walked side by side to the willow tree, passing through the obscuring wall of branches together. Pocahontas took the basket back and pushed it up onto the stump that she loved so much to sit on, Meeko and Percy following her. Meeko sat up on his hind legs and peered at the picnic basket, rubbing his paws together greedily. “Hold on, Meeko. We’ll start in just a minute. I know, I know. You’re always hungry,” she laughed. “I have something important to talk to you about, John,” Pocahontas indicated as she climbed up onto the stump herself, taking a seat on the right side facing the water. She peered down at John Rolfe. “I think—” the Powhatan princess began, gasping when she saw an unfamiliar raccoon jump up onto the Englishman’s shoulder. Rolfe jolted slightly as well, but then he glanced at her and started stroking her under the chin. “Who… what… who is that?” Pocahontas asked.

“A new little friend,” John Rolfe replied. “I found her in a trap the other day. I’ve started calling her Anna. She seems to really love ham. Have you perchance brought any today?” he inquired, pointing to the picnic basket resting on the stump that Meeko had been obsessing over.

Pocahontas shook her head. “Not today. Sorry.”

The minute Meeko laid eyes upon the female, he seemed to forget about lunch entirely. He trod over to the edge of the stump, sniffing the air in Anna’s direction and trying to get a better look at her. When the lady raccoon spotted him, she squeaked and hid behind John Rolfe’s back. “Well, I guess that means they’ve never met. Hm. I had thought they might be familiar,” Rolfe mused.

“I’ve certainly never seen her before,” Pocahontas admitted as Meeko jumped up onto a willow branch and climbed down to get closer to the female. “But she’s adorable.”

Anna peeked out from behind Rolfe’s back. As Meeko tried to move nearer to smell her, Anna squeaked again and clambered down into John Rolfe’s collared shirt, causing him to let loose a high-pitched squeal of laughter as her paws tickled his torso. He became cross. “Anna, come out of there. Meeko is not going to harm you. He’s just curious,” the Englishman chided, pulling the rim of his shirt out so she would exit. It did not work until Meeko hopped onto Rolfe’s shoulder and peered down into his collar, cooing at the female. Anna squealed a third time and dropped out of Rolfe’s shirt, racing off. Meeko crawled down the diplomat’s body and started sniffing the dirt where the girl had been. He peered out in the direction that she had gone and snuffled along the ground in pursuit. Rolfe snorted. “So much for having lunch with those two.”

Pocahontas opened the picnic basket. “Well, maybe they’ll come back,” she mused, laying out the bowls. She had brought hot venison stew in a closed ceramic container and some fresh-baked wheat bread to accompany it. For Meeko and Percy’s sake, she had also brought steaks, fish, and dumplings. “I wanted to talk to you about the thing I promised to tell you several months ago. Do you remember? It happened when we were still in Siwili’s village,” she indicated.

John Rolfe blinked, having completely forgotten. “I must admit, I remember nothing of this.”

“It’s important we talk about it since we’re going to be married. There are things about me and my life you still don’t know which you ought to,” Pocahontas expressed as she served the stew into separate bowls. She put a bowl down on the stump for Percy, who immediately started sniffing at it. Then she handed Rolfe his bowl and spoon and blew on her own portion.

John Rolfe raised his eyebrows. “Alright. What’s that, love?” he inquired, taking a small bite of the steaming-hot stew. It almost burned his tongue, but it was absolutely delicious.

“Do you remember the talk we had? You asked me why I had a feeling something bad was going to happen and I was unable to tell you. But I promised that I would tell you one day. Today is the day, I think. I hope I’m not getting ahead of myself, but you really do have a right to know.”

John Rolfe froze mid-bite. He raised an eyebrow, putting down his spoon in the bowl. “Oh, that’s right! You predicted that the pirates were going to show up. But how could you have known?”

“Yes. I was afraid to tell you at the time because… well, because I was afraid you would mistake the reason for witchcraft. It was right after the whole witch hunt fiasco we had on the ship with Nicole and I suppose I was on edge. Maybe I’m wrong, but there are things about this world that you don’t seem to know, John. Not that that is any fault of your own,” she expressed.

John Rolfe snorted. “Oh, there’s a lot that I don’t know and I’m well aware of that. Only God is omniscient. Anyway, what could I possibly mistake for witchcraft?” he inquired.

Pocahontas simpered lightly. “Think of this as a part of our information-exchange program. You had the good graces to inform me about Jesus Christ and now I’m sharing with you what I know about… the mysterious things of life that are little understood by most people.”

John Rolfe drew his brows together in curiosity. “What do you mean? Which things?”

Pocahontas took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she said, “I’m talking about the spirit world, John. I’m curious as to what you know about it.”

Rolfe looked stumped for a moment before a pensive expression befell him. “Oh, you mean the great mysteries of life. And the spirit world, as in the realm of God and angels and all, right?”

“Sort of, yes. It’s the realm of the Creator. But did you know we are surrounded by spirits? Right now. All the time. Every day. These spirits I speak of, whether you call them angels or demons or whatever. Honestly, I’m not sure if we’re talking about the same thing. But these spirits inhabit the earth, the water, the sky, and the world beyond. They’re all around us,” Pocahontas related, biting her lip in anxiety about how he would react to what she was telling him.

John Rolfe raised a brow again. He took another minute to think before he spoke again. “Well, I-I admit I don’t know the specifics about what invisible beings might be there. I certainly think guardian angels exist. Spirits that guide us to make good choices in life, that protect us.”

“Yes! These spirits do that. Maybe it is the same thing,” Pocahontas replied, feeling relieved. She almost laughed. “Maybe I should’ve told you when you first asked. I don’t know why I was so afraid. But after all that witch drama, I was afraid you might assume the spirits I commune with to be of an evil nature. Which they are not. I would never associate with evil spirits or devilry.”

John Rolfe froze again. “You… commune with spirits? What do you mean, like through prayer?”

Pocahontas shook her head. “No, it’s far less abstract than that. When I listen, I can hear them talking. I am clairvoyant, so I can hear them. When I told you I thought that something bad was going to happen, it was because a spirit had whispered to me. The exact words were something along the lines of ‘something wicked comes.’ It was a warning and so I was afraid.”

The Englishman was agape. He put down his bowl. “A guardian angel spoke to you? With actual words? And you could hear it?” he inquired, completely taken aback by the information. When Pocahontas nodded, Rolfe almost laughed. “That’s amazing. I’ve always wanted to hear God or an angel speak to me in that way. All I ever get are abstract signs. I figured I would have to wait for death to take me before I’d be able to meet God and his angels in the flesh.”

“Do you want to see and hear a spirit for yourself?”

John Rolfe nodded fervently. “It would be the highlight of my life if I could do that.”

“Alright,” Pocahontas replied. “Finish your lunch and I’ll introduce you to one of my guiding spirits. But I’m warning you, this encounter might come to you as quite a shock, John.”


End file.
